And the Greatest of These is Love
by hermionestargazer
Summary: Hermione thinks her dream has come true when she becomes head girl, until she finds out Draco Malfoy is head boy. Will her dream become her worst nightmare? Rated T for sexual reference and mild language.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Hermione Granger sat on her bed in Ginny Weasley's room at The Burrow holding a letter that had only just been delivered by owl post. Her hands were shaking and her heart pounding because this was no ordinary letter. It was her seventh year Hogwarts' letter, and she had great hopes it would contain the news that she was head girl this year.

Ever since coming to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry at the age of eleven, Hermione had dreamed of being head girl one day. It was the highest achievement a Hogwarts student could obtain, and Hermione was all about achievements.

She had been made prefect in her fifth year, and that had been exciting, but the big goal had always been head girl. Now the moment had come. When she opened this letter she would know if all her hard work had paid off. She would either be celebrating another great accomplishment or hanging her head in despair.

Her hands were shaking so violently now that she could barely handle her letter opener, but handle it she did at last, and two pieces of heavy parchment fell out of the now tattered envelope. Immediately recognizing the greeting and the book list she got every year, she cast it aside and grabbed the second sheet. Hermione whipped it open so fast she almost tore it. Her eyes bit of big chunks of the print as she read to herself in a higher than normal voice.

"_Dear Ms. Granger: It is my great pleasure to inform you that you have been chosen Head Girl for this school year._"

Hermione shrieked loudly and shot off the bed in her joy. She could hardly keep reading.

"_Your excellent academic record and many accomplishments in your previous years at Hogwarts made you the best choice for this highly valued position amongst your peers. I am sure you will continue to operate to the highest standards of Hogwarts excellence, and look forward to observing your continued growth into an esteemed graduate of our beloved school._

_You will be expected at an orientation meeting set up for you and the Head Boy, Mr. Draco Malfoy…_" (What!) "_…upon your arrival at the school and after the welcome feast on 1 September. I will look forward to seeing you and Mr. Malfoy then._

_Again, congratulations and good luck,_

_Professor Minerva McGonagall_

_Asst. Headmistress_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._"

Hermione fell back on the bed, her eyes wide with confusion and disbelief, the hand holding the long awaited letter dangling over her knee.

_This cannot be_, she thought. _I have waited so long for this honor, but now I cannot imagine how I can accept it. Draco Malfoy, head boy! It cannot be!_

Hermione let the letter fall from her hand, as great tears of disappointment flowed down her face, as her thoughts continued on their wild rampage. _I cannot share living quarters with Draco Malfoy! That is simply impossible! And all those meetings and patrols!_

With each new thought Hermione found herself getting angrier and angrier until she shouted, "This just isn't fair! I wanted this more than he ever could have wanted it! Why do I have to share this with the one person on the planet who has made my life and the lives of those I care about miserable?"

Hermione was pacing like a caged animal, bellowing at the top of her voice.

"No!" she stamped. "I just won't do it! I can't."

She was shouting so loudly that she did not hear the many footsteps on the stairs outside of Ginny's room. Suddenly the door burst open and there stood Harry, Ron, and Ginny, looking terrified. Hermione turned to these, her closest friends with fire in her eyes. She looked so frightening in her wrath that everyone backed up a little.

Ron was the first to recover, as silence filled the small room.

"Bloody hell, Hermione!" he said angrily. "What are you bellowing about? We could hear you all the way out in the yard!"

Harry and Ginny nodded, still looking quite alarmed, as Hermione stalked over and imperiously thrust the letter out to them, anguish in her eyes. Harry took the parchment and carefully smoothed it out and began to read silently to himself. Apparently he only read the first line because he looked up at Hermione beaming.

"Head Girl!" he said happily. "Well, congratulations!"

He hugged her, but Hermione remained stiff, her arms folded across her chest.

"This is great……"

Harry, noticing her less than enthusiastic reaction, let his voice trail off. And Ginny and Ron said nothing as they observed Hermione's storm cloud of a face.

"Keep reading," Hermione said in a low voice filled with the sound of threatening tears.

Harry let his questioning eyes fall back to the parchment for a moment, and understanding broke over his face.

"Good night!" Harry said vehemently. "No wonder you were screaming. Draco Malfoy, head boy!"

"Malfoy!" Ron bellowed. "What a bloody nightmare! What was Dumbledore thinking?"

Ginny immediately put a comforting arm around Hermione.

"I'm so sorry," she said, tears of sympathy in her eyes. "I know you were looking so forward to being head girl. What rotten luck."

Hermione nodded, fighting to hold back her own tears. Harry and Ron, thinking that Ginny might be able to comfort her better than they could do, quietly backed out of the room, their demeanor reminiscent of funeral manners. Ginny guided Hermione to her bed and sat next to her, gently stoking her arm and looking sympathetic. Hermione let her tears flow freely now, being unable to stop them.

"I really wanted to enjoy this last year at Hogwarts as much as possible," Hermione wailed. "We'll all have the war to face soon, and who knows what we'll suffer. I just can't imagine sleeping with the enemy right across the common room from me. Oh, Ginny, I just know he'll make my life miserable!"

Meanwhile, at Malfoy manner, Draco, a tall, handsome boy with platinum blonde hair and cool grey eyes, had just finished reading his letter from Professor McGonagall. Swearing loudly, Draco tore the letter into the tiniest pieces possible, as he stomped around the room looking murderous.

"I cannot believe this! Surely this is some kind of joke! Now I know Dumbledore is senile. No one in his right mind would put the mudblood in the same living quarters with me! It's simply insane! We'll never get along. I mean, gods, we'll probably end up killing each other!"

Draco threw himself down on his bed like a petulant child. He thought for a moment and decided what he must do.

"Well, there's nothing for it but to make it work," said Draco. "I'll just have a little discussion with Granger in the head boy/head girl compartment of the Hogwarts express. We'll just agree to disagree. She leaves me alone, I leave her alone. No questions asked and as little contact as possible. It's the only way. Now to tell Mum and Dad."

Draco knew his parents would not be happy, especially Lucius. Dumbledore would undoubtedly be hearing from Mr. Malfoy. Draco smiled mischievously, thinking of the ensuing row.

"Something good may come of this after all," he murmured as he swept from the room.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The first of September came on faster than Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione could have ever imagined. It seemed that summer was ending before it had gotten a proper start, and the four found themselves dragging their trunks down the stairs of the Burrow and bundling into the ministry car that Arthur Weasley had borrowed for the trip to Kings Cross Station.

Hermione had calmed down considerably since getting her letter. She was one to face trouble head on, and Malfoy's being head boy to her head girl was trouble indeed. So, as she loaded her trunk onto the Express, she set her jaw and steeled herself to go to the compartment expressly set aside for the honored head boy and head girl.

_One foot in front of the other, Granger_, Hermione thought as she forced herself to move.

At the sliding door of the compartment, she suddenly lost her nerve. Slyly looking in the tiny window at the contents of the compartment, she noted Malfoy was all ready there. He was sitting in an attitude of complete ease, his back to her in the far corner of his seat, facing the window, with one leg stretched out before him and the other balanced on the seat. He was lazily dandling his wand with one hand, apparently thinking to himself as he watched the hustle and bustle of the passersby outside. Hermione tried to make herself small against the wall beside the door, biting her lip in sudden apprehension.

"Are you coming in, or do you plan to stand out there the whole trip looking stupid?" came Malfoy's snide drawl through the closed door.

He had known she was there all the time, the ferret! Hermione turned scarlet, and resolutely slid the doors back so hard she was surprised the window didn't crack. Her eyes were fiery as she appraised Malfoy, folding her arms in her characteristic way.

"That anxious to see me, were you?" Malfoy said with mock enthusiasm, waving a casual hand at the now firmly shut door.

"How dare you?" Hermione shrieked with a stamp of her foot. "I couldn't be less anxious to see you, you senseless git!"

She stamped her foot again for emphasis. Malfoy regarded her coolly. He was not disturbed at all by her display.

"Calm yourself, Granger." he remarked calmly. "And stop towering over me like some mad dog. Sit down, we need to talk."

Hermione glared at him a bit longer, and then threw herself on the seat opposite him huffily.

"What is it?" she asked as spitefully as possible.

Draco acted as though she had not spoken.

"The way I see it," he said airily, still dandling his wand and eyeing her calmly, "we're going to have to find a way to get along. We will, after all, be sharing a common room, and then there's all our duties….most of them will be done together."

Hermione gave him a scathing look.

"So?" she spat out.

Draco's face didn't change.

"So," he continued. "Here's the plan. You stay out of my way, and I'll stay out of yours. And I mean stay out of my way! I am in the habit of doing whatever I want when I want. Very often I avail myself of female company, long into the night…" (He chuckled, leering at Hermione) "…if you know what I mean."

Hermione did know, and she didn't hesitate to let her disgust show.

"And I don't plan on changing my habits for you, Granger. Do we understand each other?"

Hermione was so angry she felt her head might explode. But she realized there was nothing she could say to dissuade him from pursuing his pleasures.

"You make my skin crawl, you animalistic hedonist," she fired at him, her breathing coming in short, quick pulls.

Draco just stared at her with an appraising look, a lazy smile on his face.

"I'll take that as agreement to my 'plan,'" he paused, looking her up and down again, his eyes raking over her. "And if you ever want to slip over to my side of the common room, I think you'll find my door is open."

He winked at her impertinently. Hermione felt as though she may vomit. She began shaking with anger.

"That'll be the day!" she shouted. "I would never..."

…but Draco interrupted her by putting a hand up to stop the flow of her impending tirade.

"Ah, ah, ah," he chimed casually. "Never say never."

Hermione shot up out of her seat, looking for a moment as though she might slap Draco. There was no doubt that she wanted to do it. For a moment she hovered over him as if weighing the consequences of such an action. She even began to raise her hand.

Draco, for his part, looked supremely unconcerned, his casual smile never leaving his face. Abruptly, Hermione turned and slammed out of the compartment muttering angrily under her breath.

As her quick, staccato footsteps faded, Draco chuckled again and whispered to himself, "I always thought you were beautiful when you were angry."

And he turned his attention back to the landscape flying by his window, still smiling.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Hermione sat in the Library of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on a cool and windy Saturday in mid September, her eyes simply glued to the pages in the book in front of her. She was chewing her lip, her shoulders hunched, a look of utmost concentration on her face. Any one watching the scene would have been hard-pressed not to smile at it, so familiar was the sight.

Hermione was known amongst students and teachers alike at Hogwarts for her thirst for knowledge and "bookwormish" ways. She had come to the school all ready quite confident in her academic abilities, so though she looked an odd caricature of a girl, she hadn't minded it. But now at nearly seventeen, Hermione had changed significantly…at least physically.

She had never been tall and certainly was not now, at only 5"4'. But gone were the large front teeth, which had long since been shrunk by Madame Pomfrey, the school healer, after an unfortunate incident with Malfoy, the despised Slytherin, and her arch enemy for more reasons than she cared to count.

The untamed bushy hair was gone as well, and now fell in long chestnut ringlets down her back. Her eyes were a dark brown…the kind of deep color that left one unsure as to whether they were brown or black. Her body had filled out quite pleasingly. She was strongly built. (By no means would she ever be rail thin.) She was what most people would think of as voluptuous, but not fat; her chest being large and her hips a bit wide.

The boys had noticed the change in Hermione's stature long ago, but she did not have any interest in them. Her one great love was learning. Reading was like breathing to her, and she would have rather been curled up with a good book than have the attention of any boy.

She had had a crush on one of her best friends, Ron Weasley when she'd met him first year until her sixth year. She had even thought for a time that he might feel the same way, but he never spoke and neither did she, so nothing ever came of it.

Now, she was glad, for they had fought constantly and it really was unbearable sometimes. At the time though, she had suffered some real angst; she had wanted him to open his heart to her so badly. Now, however, she knew it was far better to concentrate on other things. Far better, indeed.

Hermione jumped as she realized the time was getting on, and with great reluctance, she finally drug her eyes away from the fascinating story of Griselda the Great and her adventurous journey in search of the Fountain of Youth. Griselda had been a great witch in the 1400's who was known for her wanderlust and desire to do things no other witch or wizard had ever done.

Hermione had been reading for hours, at first because she meant to do a report on Griselda for extra credit in Professor Binn's History of Magic class. But, she had quickly gotten absorbed in the story, so absorbed in fact, that she had forgotten to take proper notes. Oh, well. That really didn't matter, did it? Hermione's near photographic memory would remember the important things.

Nervously looking at her watch, she realized she had completely missed lunch, so she stuffed her books in her bag and all but ran out the double doors of her beloved library. At least she tried to run through the doors, but they stopped her, hitting something solid.

"Oof!" a decidedly male voice intoned.

It took Hermione a moment to realize that the doors were not arbitrarily refusing her passage, but that in her haste, she had not seen someone coming in as she tried to get out. She hurriedly pushed the door open, only to hit her victim again.

"Watch it, you moron!" the voice yelled angrily.

Hermione carefully tried to open the door again as the figure on the floor scrambled to get out of her way.

"I'm so sorry!" Hermione cried as she hurried to help her unfortunate victim up.

She reached her hand down, her face the very picture of concern, that is until the poor man could free himself from the mass of robes and books to glare properly at her out of his pale grey eyes. Hermione's face changed instantly from concern to confusion as she beheld the hated Draco Malfoy sprawled unceremoniously on the flagstone.

"Oh, it's you!" she breathed, her hand to her mouth in surprise. "I didn't see you."

"Well, that's obvious, you idiot!" Malfoy spat. "It was either that or you were making a deliberate attempt on my life!"

Hermione turned scarlet with rage, but bit back an angry retort.

What came out was, "Here let me help you pick up your things" in a brisk yet not unkind voice. She was after all to blame for all the mayhem. Malfoy's books and other belongings were strewn everywhere.

_I really must have hit him hard_, she thought, pushing a small smile off her face.

"Don't bother!" Malfoy grated out venomously. "I'm afraid of what you might do next!"

"Fine, you git!" she returned coolly. "Have it your way!"

And she turned on her heal, with one steely backward glance. Hermione didn't see the still fallen Draco Malfoy look after her almost wistfully.

Draco tore his eyes away from the indignant Hermione's retreating back and immediately wished he had accepted her help in gathering his things, as they were strewn halfway down the corridor.

Draco paused in his attempt to pull himself up. Had she really offered to help him? What on earth would make her do that? He remembered her bending over him. In that moment she had looked almost like an angel of mercy, and her scent…What was it?

_Roses, yes that was it…roses..._ he thought with a smile. _What on earth am I doing?_

He shook himself. No matter how good she smells, or how wonderful she looks she is still just Granger, the mudblood. He shook himself again.

_She is off limits_, he told himself firmly, almost violently.

Then he slowly got up and began collecting his things.

Hermione was still stomping angrily down the corridor, muttering to herself, her face stormy.

"Who on earth does he think he is?!" she spat, scaring a passing second year out of his wits.

As she watched him run off it only made her angrier.

"Malfoy!" she said his name as if it were a bad word.

Then she remembered how he looked, a heap on the cold flagstone floor, and she couldn't stifle a giggle.

_Yes_, she thought triumphantly. _I must have hit him really hard._

She laughed again, and then her face returned to its former angry lines.

_What in the name of Merlin made me offer to help the ferret?!_ she wondered, now angry with herself. _I am sure he would not have done the same if I'd been the one on the floor. He would have done all he could to humiliate me and then made sure that the whole school knew about it by supper time!_

She shook her head and clenched her fists.

"Note to self", she ground out through gritted teeth. "Never offer Malfoy any help whatsoever."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Hermione marched straight to the Gryffindor common room to find Harry and Ron. She slammed into the room and all eyes were immediately upon her. She found her two best friends sitting in their favorite chairs by the roaring fire, a Wizard's chess board between them.

As soon as Harry and Ron saw her face, Ron whispered, "Look out, someone's in for it."

Harry simply nodded in reply, and tried to make himself look as inoffensive as possible. Both men had seen Hermione like this and neither wanted to be on the receiving end of her wrath. Hermione stalked over to them, looking for all the world as though she could do murder.

"Oi," Ron said, almost pulling off a casual tone. "What's wrong with you?"

His smile faded as Hermione turned eyes burning with angry passion on him. Harry knew not to say a word. He patiently waited for Hermione to get her story out.

"Malfoy!" she whispered dangerously.

Harry and Ron looked relieved at the revelation that neither of them had done anything. Hermione related her story to her best friends with no less the rancor than she had felt during the incident itself.

"What a self-satisfied little prig!" Ron said feelingly. "No wonder he's known as the Slytherin King. He certainly thinks he wears the crown. I'd like to jerk a knot in his ferrety little tail!"

Ron shook an angry fist in the air. Harry nodded. And, Hermione smiled. She had known she could count on them to feel her indignance as much as she did, and she took great comfort from it.

Hermione spent the rest of the day with Harry and Ron, walking about the lake, while they laughed and told her hilarious stories. And she loved them all the more for the knowledge that they were trying to cheer her up, and keep her from thinking of Draco.

In fact, so diverted was she that Hermione didn't think of him again until after supper when she slipped through the portrait hole to their shared common room, only to be met with a most uncomfortable sight…Draco on one of the couches with a fellow Slytherin girl that Hermione only knew by sight. Hermione gasped! The things they were doing to each other!

"I believe you have a room." she said in low dangerous tones, her arms folded, her face scarlet.

Draco looked flustered for only a moment, and then recovering himself, gave her his characteristic lazy grin. The girl didn't even move to cover her exposed, er…parts, but stared up at Hermione impudently.

Hermione was terribly embarrassed but refused to look away in her attempt to stay in command of the situation. Draco, sizing up the situation knew that the best thing to do was to send his plaything away, so he turned to the girl and kissed her playfully.

"Run along, pet," he said, nonchalantly patting her bottom.

The girl glared at him.

"Draco, surely you're not going to let Miss Goody-two-shoes here spoil our evening!" she said incredulously.

Draco's eyes were on Hermione as he held the girl's shirt out to her.

"I said, 'Run along'," he replied coolly, not looking at her.

The girl huffed angrily, but took the shirt and after putting it on and straightening the rest of her mussed garments, jumped up and stalked out of the room without another word, civil or otherwise.

As soon as the portrait hole closed Hermione unleashed her considerable anger.

"How dare you!" she screamed lustily. "How dare you conduct your private affairs in OUR common room! What were you playing at?"

She was pacing now, arms flailing wildly around.

"I'm sorry," Draco said evenly.

Hermione drew a long breath prepared to continue berating him, when his words sunk in.

"I can't believe…." she bellowed.

But she never finished telling him what she couldn't believe.

"What did you say?" she said in a clearly puzzled voice.

"I apologize for my behavior," he answered simply, his eyes never leaving hers. "It will never happen again."

For the longest time she just stared at him, her jaw working, her mind trying to land on something to say.

"Thank you," she said finally.

Draco inclined his head in a brief nod, turned and strode to his room, and was gone.

Hermione stood with her jaw dropped.

_What just happened?_ she asked herself. _Did Malfoy just apologize to me?_

Her eyes widened.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "That is simply not possible."

But she had heard it with her own ears. Shaking her head, Hermione stepped into the sunken common room proper. She fell into a couch, NOT the one that Malfoy and his pretty little "pet" had just vacated. She drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, letting her eyes wander the room.

She loved this room, with its deep jewel tones and beautiful yet comfortable furnishings. The layout was conducive to the housing of two people…two deep red leather couches facing one another over a low dark wood coffee table.

Beyond this cozy setting and right before the almost walk-in sized fire place sat two sapphire blue easy chairs, threaded through with gold accents. Each chair had its own round-topped, spindly-legged table. And the whole setting sat on a fluffy white rug, perfect for running cold bare toes over.

There was a large, finely crafted oriental rug covering the cold flagstone of the sunken floor as well. It was emerald green, and also contained all the jewel tones of red, yellow, green, and blue woven into intricate patterns. There was a flagstone ledge all around the sunken area which could be reached by a set of 3 steps each at all four corners of the room.

Hermione was facing the door to her room, which was done in Gryffindor colors of gold and true red. It contained the standard four poster bed with its red curtains, some very fine darkly wooded furniture, and its own private bath.

Across the room from her door was Malfoy's. She could only imagine that his room was done up in the Slytherin colors of deep green and silver, as she had never been in to it.

On the ledge on either side of the fireplace was the kitchenette on the side of Hermione's room, equipped to make tea and simple snacks.

And on Draco's side of the room was Hermione's favorite spot, the large picture window with its long, heavy red and gold velvet curtains and its soft window seat full of throw pillows and warm, woolly throws. Hermione loved to read there whenever time allowed. She could lay back on the pillows with her favorite books, and, wrapped in a throw, never feel any chill coming from the mullioned windows surrounding her.

Hermione felt exhausted, too exhausted even to go and find Harry and Ron to tell them what she had just seen and how Malfoy had, unaccountably, apologized to her. That bit of news would just have to wait until tomorrow.

She got heavily up and went to the kitchenette to prepare a mug of tea. She would indulge herself tonight, sitting in her window seat, reading a good book, and sipping on some warm fragrant tea. Using magic, the tea was ready in no time, and Hermione found herself ensconced with several pillows cushioning her comfortably.

For half an hour Hermione sipped and read happily, but as soon as the tea was gone, she felt so extremely sleepy that her eyes began to fall shut against her will. Soon they were shut, not to open again, her book lying forgotten on her chest.

She slept peacefully, unaware of the trial of the soul her arch enemy, Draco Malfoy, would endure that very night.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Long after Hermione fell into a peaceful sleep in her window seat haven, Draco tossed and turned fitfully in his silk lined bed. The torturous thoughts and fears had come again.

For the last year he had been plagued with dark dreams and frightening phantom thoughts of the future. In the beginning, when the icy fingers of fear had reached out for him, he had been quite skilled at pushing these black threats firmly away from him, but that was more due to the fact that he did not feel forced to face them fully. Time and youth were on his side. Leaving Hogwarts was still almost two full years away then. He was still safe. But, now, the time was waning fast…only months from now he must face his destiny.

Only months from now he must follow in his father's foot steps. This was a life and death matter. He did not have the luxury of platting his own path against his father's wishes. To vary from his father's plan for him meant almost certain death. He must become a Death Eater.

And the truth was he had no desire whatever to become such a loathsome and hateful creature. The truth was he didn't think he had it in him to live death and destruction every moment. The truth was, he was horribly, terribly, heart-poundingly afraid of being what his father meant him to be, of doing what his father most assuredly meant him to do.

Now as Draco lay drenching his silver silk sheets with cold sweat, and his heart beat as though he had run a foot race, the darkest fear yet was upon him. Draco knew that if he closed his eyes, it would overwhelm him in that moment, suffocating him, strangling him with its long, strong, relentless fingers of death.

He was panting now, and a groan escaped him. What was he to do? There was nowhere he could go to get away from the living death that awaited him. For most certainly, if he became a Death Eater he would have to shut completely down…no emotion, no beauty, no hope, and no love. Once he set foot upon that darksome path, he knew he could never ever give or receive love again. Such a pure act of devotion would quickly become impossible for him…and too risky.

Hadn't his Father always taught him that women were playthings and should never be anything more?

"Love has no place in the heart of the one who serves the Dark Lord," Lucius had said with a fierce gleam in his eye. "It will only make you weak and unable to carry out your duties. Stay away from love as though it were a plaque trying to kill you. For that is what it is to a Death Eater."

Draco winced at the memory of his father's twisted wisdom. He had tried to follow this advice, feeling he had no choice, but the hope in him would not die away. He did not feel this living hope, but something told him it was there all the same. And, he still wondered if he was capable of loving and being loved. In moments like these, he still wished with all his heart for the chance to try.

The weight of this burden was becoming unbearable. Draco jumped out of bed, wild-eyed, all but ringing his hands, the pressure was so great. He began to pace, struggling hard not to cry out.

He had kept all this torment to himself, because in the past, it had always been manageable. But tonight…tonight was different. Tonight he desperately wished he had someone to talk to, someone with whom to share this horrible, pressing weight of fearful expectation. Draco felt suddenly claustrophobic in his room…

_Not enough room_, he thought feverishly, as he strode to his door.

He all but threw it open desperately in his quest for more space in which to pace. Hermione, who was still soundly asleep in the picture window, was shocked awake by the "bang" of Draco's door.

"Gods!" she squeaked loudly, shooting up out of her blanket.

Draco, startled to find he was not alone, spun around to face her.

"Granger!" he growled out of fright more than anger. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here, remember?" she threw out haughtily as she moved to light a candle in the sconce on the wall nearest her.

"Please don't light that," Draco said softly, wishing to hide in the relative darkness any physical signs of the fear still on him. "The firelight is enough."

Immediately suspicious, Hermione narrowed her eyes as she tried to look into Draco's face. Even by firelight she could see he was paler than usual, and his eyes looked wild, his pupils dilated.

"Are you all right, Malfoy?" Hermione said, alarm in her voice.

She moved a little nearer to him. By his stance, and facial expressions she could see he was struggling with his answer.

"I'll be all right," he said in low, exhausted tones, turning away from her to face the fire.

Something in his voice frightened her.

"I don't think so…" Hermione countered suspiciously.

She walked around him to peer into his face again. He did not move away from her. It was almost as if he wanted her to notice his pain…as if he wanted her to press him.

"You look like you are suffering from something, Draco."

He looked at her sharply in surprise at her use of his name, but she pressed on.

"Look, I can't make you talk to me, but I've been told I am a good listener. It's up to you."

Draco continued to stare at her. His eyes were deeply appraising. She could see uncertainty in them. He was on guard, and she fully expected him to refuse her offer. But she didn't turn away.

"All right," he said softly, as he moved toward one of the couches.

Hermione followed suit, taking the couch opposite him, settling herself in an attitude of utmost attentiveness. Draco was quiet for some moments. She heard several deep sighs escape him. She sensed he was trying to find words to express himself.

Draco, for his part, was uncertain how much to reveal of his situation. He knew Hermione to be a very insightful witch. Perhaps she had all ready deduced much about him in these last several years. He decided for now to play it safe.

"I have been thinking seriously about my future…thinking about what is expected of me versus what I want to do."

He paused, trying to gauge Hermione's reaction. He knew he was using veiled words, but he hoped she would catch his meaning and question him to deepen her understanding. If she did, he might feel more comfortable revealing his whole heart on the matter.

"It's just that my father has certain expectations of me, and I am feeling more and more sure that I cannot fulfill them…that I don't wish to fulfill them. Do you see?"

He could barely see Hermione's head nodding slowly. He was very glad for the cover of darkness. It made it so much easier to speak of these things.

"Your father wishes you to follow in his footsteps, does he not? In fact, it might be fair to say he insists that you do so. Would that be a fair statement?"

Hermione was making an effort to tread lightly with Draco. She didn't wish to insult him, but she had always sensed, when she had seen Draco with his father on occasion, that there was no love lost between them.

"Exactly!" Draco sounded relieved. "I cannot go against my father without incurring upon myself very serious consequences, but I am coming to the conclusion that it would be no life at all for me if I could not follow my heart.

"Every once in a while these thoughts and darker ones come to me. For the past year I have been able manage them, even push them away, but now that I am nearly of age, my duty, as my father sees it, is before me. The trap is set, and in just months I will be leaving Hogwarts. I will no longer be protected. My destiny will come to claim me. I feel as though I cannot bear it!"

The last words of Draco's were so full of heart-wrenching feeling that Hermione flinched with pain. Draco moved to the edge of the couch, and leaning his elbows on his knees, let his head drop into his hands in an attitude of despair. Hermione felt an unaccountable urge to comfort him.

She moved softly over to his couch and sat tentatively beside him. Resisting the urge to lay her hand upon his arm, she prayed that only her near presence would somehow ease him.

"I am so sorry," she said feelingly. "It must be very difficult for you."

Her eyes were full of compassion. Draco looked at her, amazed. He could feel her very great desire to help him, even see it in her large brown eyes. Suddenly, he wished he could embrace her. He wanted more than anything in that moment to feel her warmth against him. He wanted it so badly he ached.

_It is not possible_, he counseled himself. _Besides, you are only overemotional. The understanding in her eyes makes you desire this. It is nothing more._

He contented himself with just a smile in answer, not his usual smirk, but a heart-felt, true smile.

_He has a rather nice face hasn't he?_ she thought, as she smiled back at him absently.

But she was immediately serious again.

"Surely there is a way. There must be some way to free you."

She was gently biting her lip and screwing her face up in concentration as she thought. Draco felt a small sliver of painful hope enter his heart. But, he didn't pay homage to it by letting himself believe, because he hadn't had hope in a very long time and, therefore, felt a little afraid of it. Hermione saw his guarded expression.

"Let me think on it," she said quietly in response, as she stood up abruptly. "Can you sleep now?"

As she stood above him with the firelight in her hair, the warm sweet smell of roses emanating from her, it seemed as though he could see a halo about her head. Draco wondered for a moment if she was meant to be to him an angel of mercy.

"Yes, I think I can," he said tiredly.

She nodded and turned to go, apparently still deep in thought.

"Hermione," he said gently, and she turned again to face him. "Thank you."

He could not see the smile she gave him in answer, but he knew it was there.

"Goodnight, Draco," she replied softly, and was gone.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The next morning Draco felt more refreshed than he would have thought possible, considering the only 5 hours of sleep he had gotten and the earliness of the hour in which he wakened.

That tiny sliver of hope was causing him less pain now. It was, in fact, growing within his heart. Why? Because he had finally told someone about his terrible dilemma, and she had, in her fashion, agreed to bear the burden with him. She was thinking on a way to set him free from a burden that had been on him all his life. He felt grateful.

Even if she could find no answer she had been willing to try, and that meant more to him than he could have ever expressed in mere words. He was not alone anymore.

That truth evoked feelings in him that were beyond description. He felt as though there was a dam inside him, and a small crack had formed last night, as he told her what little he could. How long would it be before all that he had held behind that wall came crashing through? It frightened him a little bit to think on it, but he could not ignore the relief that opening that little crack had afforded him.

What would it be like to let all his pain and fear rush out unbridled? He knew now that it would be cleansing, freeing…for him. He did not fear it anymore for himself. But, what of the one who witnessed such a profound breaking? He could only trust that anyone witnessing the dam bursting open would be prepared to deal with it. He knew it was something that would soon be beyond his control.

Thinking on these things, Draco showered and dressed almost mechanically. He was in a hurry, because he wished to be out in the common room when Hermione came out of her room. He didn't know what he would say to her, he only knew he wished to speak, to be with her.

How strange that only a day or two ago he had thought he hated her! How strange that fate would place the enemy so near to him! How unaccountable that she should be the very first person to see his anguish and to help him to bear it! How much more unaccountable if she should be the vessel by which he were saved!

He would have never thought to work it out this way, but apparently he was not in charge. Wherever fate led he would follow, knowing full well it was not only the best way, it was the only way.

Hermione made her appearance a quarter of an hour later, looking considerably less rested than Draco felt. Her eyes were dark, her face pale.

"Good morning," she said with a shy smile.

She felt strange smiling at him in the light of day.

"Good morning," he said, smiling warmly.

Then his eyes clouded with concern at sight of her.

"You look as though you haven't slept."

"I slept," she said knitting her brows and looking away from him. "A little."

She smiled again.

"But, the good news is I have been thinking and I hope I can help you. We can't talk now, since we have classes today, being it is Monday. Will you be able to meet me here tonight at eight?"

Her eyes were bright. She was obviously excited about what she had to say.

"Of course," Draco replied, liking her excitement. "I can make some excuse to Crabbe and Goyle. I was to spend the evening with them, but I can change it."

Hermione's eyebrows knit once more.

"Oh, yes…Harry and Ron. I usually do my homework in the Gryffindor common room on weeknights."

She was biting her lip again.

But, after some moments of thought, she said, "I will just tell them I promised to help someone else tonight. That should do it." She took up her bag to her shoulder and smiled again. "Better get to breakfast. Harry and Ron are waiting."

She waved to Draco.

"See you tonight, Draco," she said and then she was gone, leaving Draco with his own thoughts.

Primarily, he thought, _It would be nice if I could be either Harry or Ron, with the right to be by her side as much as I wished._

With a small smile he gathered his own bag and headed to the Great Hall for a lonely breakfast, surrounded by his "friends" at the Slytherin table.

In the Great Hall, Hermione quickly located Harry and Ron, as they waved to her from the Gryffindor table. She hurried over to them smiling.

"Good morning, Harry. Ron. All ready for the day?" she said, cheerfully smiling.

She knew she must seem as though nothing was happening out of the ordinary. But, both men were looking at her, concern in their eyes.

"Gods Hermione!" exclaimed Harry. "What on earth happened to you? You look awful!"

Hermione pretended to be offended.

"Thanks, Harry," she replied, her eyes looking fiery.

"Harry's right, Hermione," Ron agreed. "You look as though you could do with a little more beauty sleep."

Ron colored as he realized his mistake. Now Hermione looked murderous.

"Thanks a lot, Ron!" she squeaked angrily. "I mean, I know I'm not a beautiful girl, but really you could've…"

Ron held his hands up in a placating gesture. Harry grabbed the Daily Prophet in front of him and without hesitation, hid his face behind it.

"Come on now. You know I didn't mean it like that. It's just a phrase…" he trailed off as Hermione's coloring began to return to normal.

She sat down nervously.

"Of course you didn't," she said wearily. "I'm sorry. I'm just a bit tired really."

Harry, sensing the danger was passed, came out from behind his paper.

"Didn't you sleep last night?" he asked conversationally, as he lifted his goblet of pumpkin juice to his lips.

Ron began shoving forkfuls of scrambled eggs in his mouth, his appetite as voracious as ever. Hermione noticed, however, that he didn't move his eyes from her as he ate.

"Just a bit of late night studying," she said as casually as possible.

Ron rolled his eyes.

"Honestly Hermione," he said exasperatedly. "You've all ready got the highest marks in the whole school. You might want to slow down a bit, don't you think?"

Harry nodded in agreement, while Ron took a huge bite of toast, looking comical with crumbs all over his chin.

"No, I don't," Hermione said firmly. "How do you suppose I got the highest marks in the school? By studying, I assure you both."

She had said a bit self-righteously.

"Oh, and speaking of studying…I can only stay in the Gryffindor common room until just before 8 tonight. I promised to help someone else with their work then."

She got up quickly before Harry or Ron had a chance to ask who she would be helping.

"I'll meet up with you later," she said, smiling as she grabbed a piece of toast and scooted quickly away.

Hurrying out of the Great Hall on her way to her Arithmancy class, she was completely unaware that the Slytherin King was following her with his eyes. It would have surprised her to know how much he was looking forward to their appointment that night.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The rest of the day went quickly for both Hermione and Draco. They shared some classes together, such as potions and herbology, but neither by look, word, or deed did they betray that anything had changed between them.

Hermione did not think too deeply about the events of the previous evening. She was looking at the whole thing as a puzzle to be solved. Her perspective was that of the problem-solver, calculating, searching for the answers with a dogged, single-mindedness.

She saw Draco's predicament as very serious, possibly death-dealing. She was operating on the premise that his survival was in question, and did not stop to think why she cared so much about said survival. She was simply on autopilot. So much so that she did not even take time to examine her own heart deeply enough to see that further evaluation of her feelings was necessary. She did not even think to promise herself that at some point, when the danger was past she would think on these things from another angle.

Draco, on the other hand, was all ready thinking about it. Perhaps the fact that he knew Hermione was on the case gave him more freedom to look under the surface of the situation to see the possibly greater work in progress.

It seemed to him nothing short of a miracle that only days ago he could not have imagined having anything like friendship with anyone, let alone real love. Certainly he never foresaw what he was now feeling for Hermione Granger, the girl he had thought he hated these last 6 years.

_It's a miracle_, he thought, _a bloody miracle_

At promptly eight p.m. Draco was in the common room, having made tea and set it out on the low table between the couches. Moments later Hermione was slipping through the portrait whole, landing lithely on the flagstone floor. Even with her rumpled appearance, Draco thought her lovely, as she smiled sheepishly at him.

"Sorry I'm late," she said a little breathlessly, as though she run all the way from Gryffindor tower. "I had a time breaking away."

"You are not so late," Draco reassured her with a smile of his own. "Tea?"

"Oh, yes," Hermione sighed happily. "But, you didn't have to, you know."

"Yes, I know," he said, handing her a mug of tea, which she doctored with sugar, no cream. "I wanted to."

She smiled and sat down heavily. Draco noted that she still looked exhausted, but happy. He made up his own tea and took a seat across from Hermione. The fire crackled in the background, its warmth gently comforting.

Draco had not lit any candles, so the room was as dark as it had been last night. This, too, was comforting to both parties. Dark secrets were best told in the dark.

Draco had determined that it was time to share with Hermione something of his childhood, of his relationship with his father, of his understanding of his father's expectations of him. He knew she had some thoughts to run past him, but he believed that she must know the enemy she had chosen to engage more intimately in order to perfect any plans forming in her mind.

It would not be easy speaking of such things, but he knew he could trust her. He knew she would not laugh, or disregard his pain. Besides, the small breach in the dam inside him which had brought him some small relief earlier was struggling now to break completely. He could not fight it anymore.

She had been such a sympathetic listener last night that he found he wanted her to know everything. In a moment of revelation, he realized he wanted her to know and understand who he was, and how he had become the man he was today. In short, he wanted her to know him. But how to approach the subject?

For a moment or two, Hermione and Draco looked at each other over their mugs, each of them contemplating where to begin. Finally, Hermione spoke.

"Draco, is there anything else about your situation that you think I should know? I don't mean to push, but I find that one can never have too much information when trying to find solutions to a difficulty like this. Even the seemingly most insignificant piece of information can sometimes prove to be very important.

"In all the times I helped Harry my role was primarily as the researcher, the puzzle-solver, if you will. And I like to think I have some skill at it by now…"

She let her voice trail off. Embarrassed, she felt as if she were babbling in an effort to convince him to open up to her completely. She did not think about the fact that the afore-stated reasons for wanting this information were not her only reasons for asking.

Draco sat quietly, looking at her, his face impassable. He felt relieved. He felt free now to speak about the things on his heart, so he sighed once and, without preamble, began his story.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"My earliest memories are of my mother reading to me while I sat comfortably on her lap. I remember she was soft and warm, and I felt very safe."

He paused a moment, as if in recollection, a thoughtful smile on his face.

"I could not have been more than two at the time, but I remember it as if it were yesterday. I did not see much of my father, but what I did see I didn't like. He did not speak to me often, and when he came into the nursery it was only to stare at me for a few long seconds, and then he was off with a swish of his cloak. I thought him dashing, but distant, when I thought of him at all.

"Sometimes, my parents fought, but my father always had his way. He despised my mother, though I did not understand that then. He was always gone to secret meetings with other wizards who called for him at the manor. He refused my mother any information about what he was doing. Frequently they fought about his being always gone, but my mother apparently knew how far to go with her protestations. As soon as that dangerous gleam shone in my father's eye, she retreated to her favorite chair by the fire in the parlor, crying softly.

"Once, I tried to comfort her in my father's presence. He did not take kindly to that at all. 'Leave her Draco. She knows what she's done.' He said this with such malice! I was astounded. As far as I could see, my mother had done nothing. That moment was the first time I realized that my father was cruel.

"When my father was not at home, Mother and I had a wonderful time. In my baby mind, she was the greatest human being ever to grace the earth. She did not spoil me, but she made it very obvious she loved me. We were at peace, so long as my father was away. We were free to act silly, speak as loudly as we liked, and to say what we liked. My father, in my mind, was a large, black, lowering cloud, who dampened our spirits whenever he would appear. I was never happier than when he was gone."

Draco said this with bitterness…the first bitterness Hermione had heard in his voice since his narrative had begun. She peered at him, trying to discern his mood. He seemed to be struggling with something, as he closed his eyes, and muttered something unintelligible to himself.

"Draco?" Hermione questioned gently.

His eyes flipped open, as though he were just coming back to himself.

"Sorry," he apologized with a dismissive gesture of his hand. And he began again.

"I suppose you could call those days my golden days. I knew real happiness then. I had my mother, and in my mind her love was all I needed. We were happy together, as long as my father was not with us."

Draco grimaced.

"But that all changed at my third birthday. Looking back, I know my mother was a nervous wreck as she planned my party. It was a simple thing, just family and very close friends.

"Many of the mysterious wizards that Father went away with came, as well. I thought that odd, as none of them had ever set foot in the manor before. My father always went out to them when they rang the bell. But that day, they were there, smiling and congratulating my father, slapping him on the back.

"My father, too, seemed happier than I had ever seen him. I remember observing his smile, as I had seen it so infrequently. I didn't understand any of this, but I took my cues from Mother. It was very clear to me that she did not like these men, my father's friends. She was looking at them nervously, and she barely spoke to them. She behaved in their presence as she did with my father; as though she was afraid of them."

Draco paused again, taking a deep breath. Hermione saw that he was preparing to reveal something very unpleasant. It was as though he was gathering strength for the task.

"That night, as I lay in my bed, I could hear my parents arguing. The intensity of the argument frightened me. Mother was not backing down, and my father's voice was becoming more and more angry and cruel. My mother's voice was at first pleading. I had heard that voice many times when she and my father were together, but as the argument escalated she became more desperate and thus more forceful.

"At that point, I heard a scuffle begin. My father was yelling more loudly than ever, and I was really afraid. There was the sound of a slap, and thud as though someone had fallen, or been pushed down. I pulled my covers over my head, shaking. I did not know what to do. I wanted to go to Mother, but he was still there. I could hear him talking in commanding tones for several minutes, and my mother did not answer him, but I could hear her soft crying."

At this point, Draco peered over at Hermione, trying to gauge her reaction. In the firelight, he thought he saw tears shining in her eyes.

"Draco!" she said in soft horror, as she put her hand to her mouth.

Draco smiled sadly, and leaned forward a little in his seat.

"The next day, after passing a very disturbed night, I went to the kitchen as usual for my breakfast with my mother. But Mother wasn't there. In her seat was my father, waiting for me. I was so shocked at his presence and my mother's absence that I jumped at the sight, and before I could stop myself I spoke to my father for the first time before he had addressed me. 'Where is mother?' I asked, looking about the kitchen as though she would suddenly appear. My father's eyes glittered, his smile unpleasant. 'Come here Draco', he said in his commanding tone. I obeyed immediately, and my father looked me over as he had done so many times before. I felt very uncomfortable to have his eyes so intently upon me. 'Draco,' he said. 'When you were born your mother and I made an agreement of sorts,' he paused, his cold blue eyes staring at me again. It was as if he was trying to decide how much to say to me. 'We agreed that when you were three years old I would take a greater hand in your training. In fact, from now on I will be the one to teach you. Your mother will have very little to do with it.' He sat back, obviously believing this short explanation sufficient.

"Before I could fully take in what he had just said, he was standing up and moving out of the kitchen. 'Come with me,' he said, not looking back, and I followed him numbly, still trying to understand the new arrangements. I felt sick, I wanted my mother so badly.

"I did not pay attention to where my father was taking me until I found myself standing at his office door. I looked at the door distrustfully, for I had been taught from my earliest days to never go through that door. That was Father's private study and was off limits. But, now without hesitation, he led me into the forbidden room. It was dark, gloomy, and dusty. Apparently the maids were not allowed in to clean either. As I looked around I saw many strange things…jars holding nasty and sinister-looking objects in various colored liquids, what looked like human and animal bones set upon small tables behind the desk, and charts with evil looking people and animals etched on them. I was more frightened than ever, but I didn't dare to ask what these horrible things were. I just stared with unhidden disgust and fear on my face.

"My father laughed coarsely. 'You will need to learn to hide your emotions away much better than that,' he said with the evil gleam in his eye I was beginning to recognize as a sign of impending unpleasantness. 'Come,' he said commandingly, as he sat in his desk chair turning it away from the desk. 'Stand before me.' Again, I obeyed without speaking. 'Soon I will be sharing many secrets with you, Draco…secrets that you will see the value of one day. But first, you must learn to deal with fear.

"'I am in the service of the Dark Lord, and one day you too will serve him. Because of the nature of the work, fear will be on your every side almost all the time. You must learn not to heed it…to carry out your purposes without regard to it. Do you understand?' His voice was almost kind, so I nodded even though I had no idea what all this meant.

"Without further explanation, my father extracted his wand from his walking stick and pointed it at my feet. He murmured something I did not understand, and I was standing in what appeared to be a nest of large, black snakes, writhing and hissing angrily. Terrified, I cried out, and made to step out from among them. Suddenly, I felt my father grab me roughly, forcing me to remain where I was. He slapped my face hard enough to make my head turn involuntarily, and make my jaw ache. 'No!' he bellowed. 'You will stand there! Show no fear!' His eyes were locked with mine. My countenance must have shown my terror, for my father struck me again. 'Show nothing of your thoughts on your face!' he commanded forcefully. Not wanting to be hit again, I arranged my expression in what I hoped was complete passivity, even though I could feel the cold, slithering bodies of the snakes winding around my ankles, and could hear their sinister hissing.

"For several moments my father sat looking intently at me, as I stood like a little soldier, eyes forward, jaw set. When I saw him raise his wand again, I wondered what new horror awaited me, but he only stopped the incantation, making the snakes disappear. I did not change my stance until he released me. He looked pleased. 'That will do for today, Draco. You may go now.'

"I turned to leave, keeping my movements slow. 'Wait,' my father said coldly. I turned to face him again, my heart pounding. 'From now on, when I speak to you in such a way that requires an answer, or when I dismiss you, you will address me as _sir_. Do you understand?' I looked at him and nodded. He narrowed his eyes. 'What should you say?' he said dangerously. I took my cue. 'Yes, Sir,' I intoned quietly. My father smiled, but the smile did not reach his eyes. Then, he waved me off impatiently.

"In that moment, I hated my father. The hatred filled my heart, even as the tears threatened to fill my eyes.

"As soon as I got out of that horrible room, I ran to find my mother. She was not in the parlor, seated in her favorite chair reading as she might have been at that time of day. I went to the kitchen, the garden, everywhere I could think of that she usually frequented throughout the day. Then I felt a compelling to go to the nursery. Somehow, I knew she would be there, and she was there, with my favorite books on the table beside our rocking chair. She had been crying, and when she saw me, she held her arms out, and I ran into them. Finally, the tears I had been withholding poured out of me as I rested my head on Mother's shoulder, her arms tightly holding me. 'I am sorry, Draco,' she said softly, her tears spilling over onto her beautiful, but anguished face.

"I could not answer her, but if I could have I would have told her I understood that she could not stop him.

"There were to be many incidents like the one I've just described, in my father's study. Every day my father spent time 'training' me. And every day I grew to hate him more. But, I changed because I must survive. It did not take very long for my father's cruel treatment to affect me. I became what I know he wanted to make of me. I became cruel like him, surly, secretive and insistent on my own way.

"As I grew into the monster my father was creating, I pulled further away from my mother. She felt the loss keenly at first, I know. But as I changed she soon began to avoid me. Her attitude when she was in my presence began to resemble the attitude she displayed with my father.

"Soon, she and I argued as much as they ever did. She began to harden. Lost to her was the child who had loved her, and had, by that love, helped her keep her motherly softness and kind heart. She, too, needed to survive, so she turned within herself and away from me. I do not blame her now, though I blamed her then, and became all the more bitter for the loss.

"It was only at night when I was alone in my room that I thought of my predicament, and allowed my emotions to rise to the surface. I sensed only then, that I still had something good in me…something that was refusing to die under the dire treatment I was receiving from my father. I still greatly desired to love and be loved. I was afraid because I thought someday I must lose this last vestige of humanness. I knew that it was only this that gave me any hope of avoiding the black fate of becoming just like my father. So, painful as it was, I fed this last living hope within me. I thought of my earliest years deliberately and felt love swell in my heart for my mother once more. I knew that the next day I would have no choice but to hide this love away again, but I was compelled that hide it I would do. I could never permit my father to completely destroy it."

Draco sighed heavily. His eyes wandered to the fire, which crackled merrily on the grate.

Hermione was weeping softly. Her heart ached for the little boy Draco had been, and for the man that he now was… lonely, sorrowing, desperately clinging to his hope of love. He looked at her, and felt a strong pull to go to her. He had not wept for himself as he told his tragic story, but he felt his eyes filling at sight of her tears. The desire to comfort her became overwhelming, and he found himself quietly crossing from his couch to hers.

In the next moment, he was pulling her to him in a gentle embrace, one hand softly patting her back. Hermione leaned into him without hesitation, her tears falling onto his shoulder.

"I am so sorry, Draco!" she said in a watery voice. "I don't know what to say. It's so awful!"

She was gasping slightly now. She felt as though her heart would break.

"It is enough that you listened to me and understood," he whispered as he gently stroked her hair away from her tear-stained face. "Your tears of compassion mean a great deal to me."

His own voice broke as he just barely breathed out the last sentence. At this, Hermione let her arms snake around his waist, and she gave him a little squeeze.

Draco could not have described what that little squeeze did in him. He felt as if his heart would explode with joy.

Hermione was no longer crying, and he could hear her even, gentle breathing. He felt he could have held her forever. Draco sighed, wishing with all his heart that he could look into her eyes and read what she was thinking, but he was afraid. What if he only saw compassion, when what he wished to see was the mirror image of his growing love for her? Only moments ago he had said her willingness to listen and her understanding were enough for him. Had his heart really enlarged toward her so quickly?

_No_, he thought with sudden realization.

This had all started the day he had spoken to her in the head boy/head girl compartment on the Hogwarts Express. His eyes had begun to open then. Now his heart was only following suit. As he thought along these lines, Draco continued to hold Hermione and stroke her hair. He loved the silky feel of it and the sweet smell of roses which he had begun to associate with her.

Draco's thoughts were only broken when he heard Hermione sigh and felt her stir against him, as she made to move away. A feeling of loss filled him as she gently left the comfort of his arms. Her eyes were looking upon his face. They were wide with gentle realization. He knew she was only now seeing into her own heart.

"Draco," she whispered, her soft hand suddenly upon his face.

She did not move her eyes from his, and the look in them made his heart pound. He felt that little sliver of hope in his heart growing, and he wondered if she could discern this miraculous happening as she peered so intently into his eyes.

"Hermione," he said as he gently seized the hand touching his face and brought it to his lips for a soft and heartfelt kiss.

For some seconds he held her hand there, and she did not pull away, she did not remove her eyes from his. They sat in this attitude for some time, just studying one another, communicating silently with their eyes.

Draco wanted very much to kiss Hermione. His heart was stirred, and he longed to close the distance between them, to dispel any doubts about what was happening between them. But, he sensed the time was not right for her. He sensed she had only just realized what he all ready knew. He didn't want to scare her away, so he waited for her to set the pace of their relationship. He decided to let her take the lead.

He only fully realized the wisdom of this decision when moments later, Hermione moved slowly to stand up. She looked down upon him, her eyes soft.

"I think I will go to bed now," she said, gently smiling. "We can talk again tomorrow. Goodnight, Draco."

She turned away and began heading to her door.

"Goodnight, Hermione."

She turned to him once more as she entered her room, and gave a small wave. Then she was gone.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The next morning found Draco, again waiting for Hermione in their Common Room. He wanted to assure himself that he had not taken liberties he should not have taken the night before. Had he scared her? He would have his answer only by looking for it in her eyes.

Nervously he sat on the couch he had come to call his own, watching Hermione's door. As soon as it opened, Draco was standing up to face her. She caught his eye immediately, a shy smile on her face. He saw no fear or doubt on her countenance.

Without knowing it, he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hello," Hermione said softly.

Her eyes were soft too, and full of memory.

Draco went to her, his smile unintentionally full of meaning.

"Hello," his voice was low, gentle, almost reverent. "It was a good talk last night, wasn't it?"

Again his eyes searched hers.

"Most enlightening," Hermione answered with a blush, lowering her eyes meaningfully for a moment.

Then she suddenly adopted her usual crisp, almost business-like tone.

"But, there is more to say. You still have not heard my thoughts on getting you out of your predicament, and after last night's conversation, I am more convinced than ever that you must get off the path you are on or you will face severe consequences. There is no time to lose. When will you have time to talk again?"

Her face was flush with conviction. She was obviously determined to do all that she could for him.

Draco thought to himself that he would like to spend every possible moment with her from now on. As far as he was concerned he had all the time in the world for her.

"Would tonight be too soon? Say, 10 o'clock? I know we will need to study…"

He was also thinking that Harry and Ron might be getting suspicious. He did not wish to cause her difficulty with them.

"Of course," she answered seriously. "As far as I am concerned, the sooner the better!"

In that moment Draco and Hermione locked eyes again. No words were needed. That shy smile crept up on her face again, and she let her eyes fall from his intense gaze .

"Al—Alright, then," she stumbled. "See you tonight."

Her face was scarlet, but her smile never left her face.

She grabbed her bag and scurried out of the room, without a backward glance. Draco smiled broadly as he watched her go. He had never felt as he did about her. If this was love, then it was worth fighting for; worth dying for, he was sure.

Hermione planned to spend as much time as she possibly could with Harry and Ron that day. She knew she had been rather distracted lately, and they knew her so well that the slightest change in her demeanor would always be noticed. She felt guilty about her secretiveness, but she could not think of sharing the past few days' happenings with them.

Obviously, their judgment would be clouded where the hated Draco Malfoy was concerned, she knew. On the other hand, she knew that most anyone would advise her that she must not proceed in trying to help her known enemy alone. What if it was a trap of some kind? What if Draco was only attempting to get to Harry through her? These thoughts had run through her very analytical mind more than once. Some people might have even felt that her vision was being clouded, especially if they could have seen how her heart did flip flops while in Draco's presence.

As she walked to the Great Hall to meet Harry and Ron for breakfast as usual, her mind returned to last night's conversation. She heard again, Draco's sad, soft voice as he described his childhood. She heard that one note of bitterness…How awful! She saw again in her mind's eye, his grey eyes, looking intently into her own. She read again the message she had seen there, and she blushed, feeling heat rush through her.

Was it really possible? Had it all been real? But she sensed within herself that it was too late for such questions. Even if he was playing with her, which she did not believe to be the truth, she had all ready fallen for him a little too far.

There was no turning back now. Either this path led to joy in one another's arms, or a broken heart. She was conquered either way. It was harder than she could ever have imagined to admit that to herself, but there it was. She could no longer ignore the truth.

All these thoughts ran through Hermione's head as she approached the Great Hall. She wished she had more time to reflect, but she could already see Harry's jet black head and Ron's fiery red one as they bent over their breakfast plates. She hurried over to them, smiling happily.

"You're late," Harry said in mock offense, sipping his tea.

"Yeah," agreed Ron, more seriously. "You've been late or scurrying off somewhere a lot lately."

Ron was the one of the two men Hermione worried the most about concerning her meetings and new found friendship with Draco. Ron had a temper, and when he narrowed his eyes as he was doing now, it never boded well. The comments they'd just made showed they had grown more suspicious. She knew a confrontation was coming, and she was not ready for it.

She could not imagine purposely lying to them, but at the same time, she knew they would not like what she had to say. Ron would yell himself hoarse and probably refuse to speak to her for a very long time…not to mention what he might try to do to Draco.

Harry, on the other hand, would be quietly hurt. He might yell a little, too, but in the end he would just be very disappointed in her. She did not know if she could bear it.

Hermione felt caught between the proverbial rock and hard place. She knew she had no choice in the matter, but she was at a loss as to how to make her best friends see that fact. She could not just walk away from Draco now, not after all that had happened. If she betrayed him now, it might mean his death, emotionally and physically. She had to carry on, and that was that.

Sighing, Hermione regarded Ron.

"I'm sorry, Ron," she said coolly. "I've just been very busy."

"Doing what, I'd like to know?" Ron said, starting to redden. "You leave our common room early at night, saying you have to help someone with their work, but you manage never to tell us who it is. You look exhausted, and you, who have never been late for anything in your life, suddenly seem to have forgotten how to tell time!"

Ron was shouting now, and his face was scarlet.

"WELL, I'LL TELL YOU WHAT TIME IT IS! IT'S TIME FOR YOU TO TELL US WHAT YOU ARE DOING THAT REQUIRES SO MUCH SECRECY AND STRANGE BEHAVIOR!"

At this, it seemed as if all of the congregants in the Great Hall were staring at them with shock and open curiosity.

Ron had shot up off his seat to deliver this last angry statement. He was staring at Hermione now, and she knew he meant to have an answer. She did not know what to do. She wrung her hands and looked at Ron and Harry with pleading, tearful eyes. Neither of them looked ready to let her off the hook she was now dangling on. But, she would not lie. She hung her head, clasped her hands and plunged in, head first.

"I can't tell you," she murmured miserably.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Ron looked ready to burst, his anger was so overwhelming.

"Bloody Hell, Hermione!" he fairly bellowed.

"Ron, stop," Hermione whispered. "The teachers…"

With difficulty, Ron contained himself, but his eyes were still burning into hers. Harry looked a bit shell-shocked.

"Maybe we should go for a walk," Harry said quietly. "Perhaps you'll feel more free to speak about this if we're not the center of attention?"

Hermione only shook her head, her eyes on the ground. Tears were starting now.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, getting up and quickly gathering her things. "I cannot speak about this at all."

Harry looked puzzled.

"Please," she pleaded with every fiber of her being. "Please understand."

And she bolted from the room. Ron jumped up to follow, but Harry stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"No, Ron," he said commandingly. "Leave her. She will tell us when she is ready."

Ron growled menacingly, but obeyed. Draco, sitting across the room at the Slytherin table, had not failed to notice the heated row amongst the three friends. Now his pale eyes watched with grave concern as Hermione ran from the room. He got up as casually as possible, made an excuse to his cohorts, and slipped from the room to follow her.

As Hermione hurried through the door, she did not see Draco closing the distance between them with his powerful strides. She felt her tears spilling over her cheeks, and she absently wiped at them with her fingers, as she headed to the corridor leading to the nearest bathroom. Just as she was about to plunge through the bathroom door, she felt a hand on her arm. She spun around, her eyes wide, fully expecting to see before her an angry, purposeful Ron.

"Draco!" she cried.

"Shhh!" Draco said gently. "Come with me."

Both Hermione and Draco looked up and down the corridor. Seeing no one there, Draco took Hermione's hand and headed straight for a beautifully wrought purple and gold tapestry hanging on the wall opposite the girl's room. Silently he lifted the tapestry and waved Hermione into the darkened corridor it had hidden so well.

"Draco, I didn't know this was here. How did you…?"

Her words trailed off into silence, as she beheld Draco's serious countenance.

"What happened back there?" he said, looking deeply into her still teary eyes.

"Oh, that," she said as casually as she could.

"Yes, that." Draco countered, not to be put off.

"It was nothing, Draco," she said with a nervous smile. "Please don't concern yourself."

Draco put his hands on her arms, and looked at her gently. He saw her lip tremble and her eyes overflow.

"That was an awful lot of shouting over nothing," he said softly. "And I am concerned. I care about you. I don't like to see you so upset. Please, I wish to help, if I can."

Hermione colored at his admission that he cared about her, but she said nothing for a moment. She looked as though she were trying to decide what she should and should not say.

"Hermione…" Draco's voice was softly insistent.

"All right," she sighed wearily. "Harry and Ron are suspicious about what I am doing. They both know I am hiding something. Ron wanted to know why I am late getting to appointments with him and Harry, and why I've left them in their common room early last night. That was Ron doing the shouting, and it didn't calm him any when I told him I could not tell him my secret."

She began to cry again.

"Oh, Draco! I just know they wouldn't understand what we're doing! They wouldn't believe you've had a change of heart. And, I am afraid that they wouldn't forgive me, if they knew. I'm afraid of what they, especially Ron, might do to…"

She stopped, biting her lip as she let her eyes search his face.

"…to me," Draco finished her sentence for her, his eyes dark.

He sighed, and dropping her arms, moved away from her further into the shadowy corridor. Hermione was quiet in her despair, as she, once again, felt the loss of his closeness.

"Well," Draco said slowly. "There is nothing for it, then. We'll have to stop meeting."

Hermione was beside him in a shot.

"No!" she cried. "That is not an option!"

It was she who had Draco by the arms now, her eyes insistent.

"My meeting with you could mean the end of your friendship with Harry and Ron. And that is not an option. I won't be the cause of such a breach."

The last sentence was a whisper.

Hermione was quietly thoughtful for a moment, her hands still on him. Her eyes were serious, but very clear suddenly.

"If my friendship ends with them, it will not be your fault, Draco. It will be theirs," she said calmly.

"I know how much you love them, Hermione. I cannot ask you to make that love subservient to me."

He meant this sincerely, but he felt his heart would break if she left him. He could only bear it, if he knew she was happy.

"I won't leave you to fight your battle alone."

Her voice was strong now, and her eyes full of decision.

"Besides, you did not ask me to do anything, I offered."

Her face colored again, but she did not turn away.

"I care about you, too."

It was said meaningfully, and in reference to his earlier confession of the same sentiment. Only after she'd said the telling words did she let her eyes fall from his in confusion, all her boldness of the moment fading away. Draco felt his heart pound as it had the night before when they had been together on the couch after he had told her his story. He felt the same urge to kiss her. He peered deeply into her eyes.

"Do you mean that, Hermione? Do you care for me?" he asked, with a voice full of gentle hope.

She could not have missed his heart in his words.

She studied him now with a soft light in her eyes. Draco felt his heart skip a beat, for there was no mistaking that look. He felt her hand come up gently to touch the soft platinum hair in the back of his head. Draco closed his eyes and shivered as electricity coursed through him. He looked at her again, waiting for her to speak, but she was taking her time.

"Yes, Draco," she said finally, in a softly loving tone. "I mean it with all my heart."

That was all Draco needed to hear. He took her face into his hands, giving her one intense, loving look. Then, without further hesitation, he let his lips drop to hers. She sighed, and wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him nearer. As the kiss became more arduous, Hermione's arms came up around his neck, and his arms came around her waist to rub her back and shoulders lovingly. The kiss lasted several seconds, and when Draco broke it, he laid his forehead on Hermione's, and both of them gasped raggedly, trying to catch their breaths. After a bit, Draco took her face in his hands again.

"This may sound crazy," he said carefully. "But I don't just care about you, Hermione. I love you."

Hermione gasped, but did not pull away from him.

"I know it's love because I have had so much life experience without love that I'm sure I know it now that it's come. I won't push you, and I don't want to frighten you. Don't say you love me, just because I've said it to you. I want your whole heart, Hermione, not just a piece of it. And, I want us always to be honest with each other. Do you understand? I am content for now knowing that I love you. I can wait to hear you say you love me, if only I know that you can find it in your heart to give me a chance. Can you do that, Hermione?"

His eyes were full of the truth of his declaration. He loved her, and that was plain. But, he was being wise in giving her time to fully evaluate her own heart in the matter, and she felt extremely grateful to him.

A gentle nod was her answer, and with a smile he pulled her to him in one more loving embrace.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Minutes later Draco and Hermione surreptitiously left the dark, hidden corridor that had witnessed their first fully honest moments together. Neither of them knew how they could possibly behave normally in their Potions class, which was to begin in 5 minutes. But, knowing they could not reveal to anyone the true nature of their feelings for each other, they reluctantly separated and entered Professor Snape's dungeon classroom a few moments apart.

As she expected, Hermione was not overwhelmingly welcomed by Harry and Ron. Ron, in fact, did not greet her at all. It appeared that as far as he was concerned, she may as well have not been in the room. Harry, however, at least gave her a weak smile.

Hermione was feeling rather angry now. In her opinion, Ron was acting just like a child. She said as much when he would not acknowledge her presence even as she read instructions from their potion's text. She asked him 3 times to add ground moonstone to the potion they were brewing for that day's class. But, he soundly ignored her, even going so far as to hum under his breath and look around the room. In the end, Harry, with a huge sigh, grabbed the ingredient and tossed it in, with a furious look at Ron.

All this was not lost on Draco. He could see the frustration in Hermione's face, the smugly satisfied look on Ron's, and the desperately irritated look on Harry's. He really hated to see the 3 friends at such odds, and he couldn't help but feel a little guilty for what he still viewed as his part in it.

Unfortunately, the rest of the classes Hermione had with her two closest friends went no better. Ron was seemingly intent on punishing her. In Charms, he refused to partner with Hermione to practice silencing spells, so a frustrated Harry had to work with both of them in turn. And in Defense against the Dark Arts, Ron's fury was seen in his overaggressive use of stunning spells on Hermione. More than once his spell made her all but fly up into the air, only to land hard on her bottom.

"Oof!" she cried after a particularly painful fall. "Ron, would you grow up!!??"

She yelled, glaring up at him from the floor.

Ron only regarded her coolly for a moment, turned on his heel, and walked away. Hermione got up slowly with a hand from Harry, and began rubbing the offended part, as she limped back to the table her on which her DADA textbook lay.

"Sorry about that, Hermione," Harry apologized sheepishly.

He had followed her to the table.

"I don't know why you're apologizing!" Hermione said snappishly.

At the hurt look in Harry's eyes, Hermione immediately relented.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I suppose I am just having a difficult day," she said softly.

Harry nodded, and sat down dejectedly.

"Hermione," he said carefully. "Maybe if you just told us a little bit about what you've been doing…" He stopped at a warning look from Hermione.

"I told you, Harry, I can't," she said, her eyes hard. "Please don't ask me again." This was more of a plea than a command.

"All right, All right!" Harry was irritated now. "I won't say another word. Are you coming to our common room tonight, then?"

It was Hermione's turn to be sheepish.

"No, Harry, I don't think so. What with Ron and all…" She did not finish her sentence, but looked at Harry for some clue that he understood.

"Of course," he said a little bitterly.

"Harry…" she began wearily.

But, Harry interrupted her with an agitated wave of his hand.

"I just wish the two of you would work out your differences, so that I didn't have to suffer, too!"

And he stalked off.

Hermione watched him with an impassive expression on her face.

"It's been a long day," she muttered to herself, as she stuffed her belongings in her bag, and followed Harry out the classroom door.

Now that both Harry and Ron were angry with her, Hermione could not bring herself to go the Great Hall for supper. She decided, instead, to go to the kitchen and ask the house elves for a little sustenance she could take to her rooms. As always, they were happy to oblige, and before she knew it, Hermione was carrying a large tray laden with all kinds of delicacies back to the common room.

She was just laying out her supper on the low table between the couches, when Draco came through the portrait hole, his cape sweeping in behind him. He went straight to her, and took her gently into his arms.

"Rough day?" he asked in a soft voice.

"Yes, it was very difficult," she said, squeezing him in a tight embrace. "But, you're here now, and that's all that matters."

Draco smiled into her hair, after planting a kiss on the top of her head. Hermione abruptly pulled away to look at him.

"Wait a moment…What are you doing here?" she questioned almost sharply. "Shouldn't you be eating with Crabbe and Goyle? Won't they wonder where you are?"

Draco smiled at her again, his eyes laughing down at her.

"What happened to 'you're here now, and that's all that matters'," he squeaked in his best impression of Hermione's voice.

She laughed and playfully hit him.

"But seriously, shouldn't you…" she trailed off.

"I suppose I should, but I made my excuses instead. I knew you'd had a difficult time of it, and I wanted to be with you."

Hermione gave him a pointed look, which made him laugh again, as he took her in his arms once more.

"Now," he said gently. "Don't worry about Crabbe and Goyle. I can handle them."

Then he turned to the laden table.

"I see you made supper," he said, eying her playfully. "It looks delicious. Is there enough for another hungry traveler?"

Hermione laughed, and let it go. She didn't wish to protest too much, as she was really happy he had chosen to come to her.

"The house elves fixed this up for me, and as usual they were a little too anxious to please. I mean two kinds of meat, enough bread and fruit to feed 12 people…" she laughed again.

Draco laughed for the joy of seeing her happy again. He hoped his presence had something to do with that. Hermione got another place setting from the kitchenette, and began to push serving plates at him, happily. After they were both served, the mood got serious again.

"What are you going to do about Harry and Ron?" Draco asked, as he lifted a forkful of food to his mouth.

"Well," Hermione looked pensive. "Obviously I cannot tell them anything yet, though I know that eventually I'll have to discuss it with them. For now, I'd like to talk to you after our meal about an idea I've got in mind to free you from Voldemort and your father."

"Of course," Draco replied.

The truth was he was anxious to hear what she had come up with. He knew Hermione to be a brilliant witch. He had heard enough about her exploits with Harry and Ron to know she had come up with some very good plans when needed. Besides, he wished to be free to have a normal life, with her by his side. So, after Draco and Hermione had each had enough to eat, they pulled out their wands for the clean-up, and then took their seats on one of the couches.

"I have been thinking," Hermione began tentatively, as she took his hand. "We've never really talked about it….Forgive me, but you have said you do not wish to be a death eater like your father. Do you mean you wish to fight on the other side? Or, do you mean to just walk away from your father, without further involvement either way?"

Hermione bit her lip as she waited to hear Draco's answer. He knew that no matter what he decided to do, she would fight in the Order of the Phoenix alongside Harry, Ron, and Dumbledore. She had made her choice, and he must make his.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Draco looked thoughtful for some minutes, as Hermione waited anxiously.

"I have thought about this, and I know I cannot remain neutral. I don't think I even wish to do so. Since I spoke to you so openly out of my heart, about my father, and all that he tried to make of me, I have realized that I do not wish to have any part in the Dark Lord's plans. In fact, I cannot do so, because I see now that it is not my role to play. This may seem ridiculous, but I did not realize this until I told you my story. I cannot describe the thoughts and emotions that coursed through me simply because I spoke all of it out loud to you. I saw very clearly, for the first time in a very long time, who I really was. And in those honest moments, I realized that I have no business with the Dark Lord, or his evil purposes. So, I have decided to fight on the side of right…not just because it is right, but because it is what I am compelled to do in honor of who I really am."

Draco was at peace, staring at the fire with a faraway look in his eyes. He held her hand, gently stroking it with his thumb. Hermione felt her heart well up with deep affection for him. It thrilled her no end that he wanted to live honestly, even though some would say he was only moving from the frying pan into the fire. After all, he would be risking his life either way he chose to go. His motives, too, amazed her. They went deeper than right and wrong, so much deeper. Hearing his declaration, Hermione was even more certain of what she must propose to him.

"Draco, I am very glad to hear you say these things," she choked on the tears that were threatening to overtake her. "Sorry," she whispered, as she closed her eyes to regain control of herself.

Draco wrapped an arm around her, and let her rest her head on his shoulder a moment. He felt his own eyes prickling with tears, just as they had the first time he had seen her cry. Hermione cleared her throat, and sat up very straight.

"I think you know what we must do, don't you?" she asked very quickly. "We must see the head of the Order, Dumbledore himself."

Her eyes were now locked on Draco's face, as she prayed he would agree.

"Of course," Draco said simply, nodding and looking at her calmly.

It was as though he had expected this.

"Oh, Draco, you mean you'll really talk to him?" she burst out. "He is the only one I can think of who can help you get the protection you will need, and he can help you find your place in the Order as well."

Draco nodded again seriously, and she threw herself at him, letting her tears flow. He wrapped both arms around her comfortingly.

"What's the matter, love?" he asked, concern filling his voice.

He made her look at him.

"I was just so afraid you wouldn't talk to Dumbledore. After all you were taught to hate him, to think of him as a doddering old man, I am sure."

She laughed nervously.

Draco smiled and squeezed her to him again.

"Yes, that is how my father portrayed him to me. But, I have had to rethink everything my father taught me, haven't I. Remember," He spoke tenderly now, gently cupping her chin in his hand. "I thought I hated you, too. Now I know that instead my heart has always belonged to you."

Hermione felt warmth spreading from his hand all across her face. She felt lightheaded, as his eyes deeply probed hers. An ache formed in the pit of her stomach, and she knew it was because of the intensity of the love in his gaze. His eyes fairly shone with it. She was a little afraid of its depth. But, then she let herself become lost in it, and all fear fell away. She felt herself surrounded by a veritable sea of perfect love. Next moment, he was kissing her gently, whispering her name.

"Hermione, I love you." he said huskily.

His arms were around her, and she melted into them. She felt she never wanted to be away from him again. The connection between them was so strong; she was sure she could have reached out and touched it in that moment.

"Draco," she whispered, gently stroking his face.

He kissed her again, his heart fully engaged in the embrace. He did not think; he only loved. The sliver of hope in him had long since become an open door that ushered in the love he was freely able to give her now. He only hoped to receive her love in return one day.

The next day, when Hermione stepped out of her room, Draco was waiting in the common room as was now his habit.

"Good morning, Love," He came to her and took her hand, smiling.

"Good morning," she returned, kissing him lightly.

He led her to the couch, seating her and himself.

"I thought perhaps we ought to decide when we will go to see Dumbledore…Since our talk last night was interrupted." He grinned impishly.

Hermione was blushing furiously now, but her smile was still in place.

"You're adorable when you're embarrassed," he said playfully.

"And you're adorable when you're smugly satisfied," she said in mock offense.

Draco made a gesture as if to say, "Who, me"? And they both laughed. Hermione was the first to get serious.

"I think we should see Dumbledore as soon as possible. How about tonight? We could see if he is in at, say, 8 o'clock?"

It was agreed, and they both felt better for it. The sooner Draco was under Dumbledore's protection the better. In just two weeks Draco would be 17, and he wished to have all of it settled before then. He did not know when the Dark Lord would summon him after he came of age, but he knew it was only a matter of time.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The new day was not much better for Hermione than the day before. Ron was just as obdurate, refusing to speak to her, unless it was to be cutting. Harry was still feeling caught between his two closest friends, which made him extremely irritable. And Hermione felt emotionally wind-tossed and abandoned by both of them, which made her quiet and withdrawn or snappish by turns.

Draco watched the whole thing with a growing dissatisfaction. He wished above all else that he could help them. He knew the only thing that would satisfy Harry and Ron (or so they thought) would be Hermione confiding in them what she had been about. But, Draco and Hermione both felt that telling them of his change of heart and their new relationship would only open Pandora's Box afresh. And the consequences of this would border on unbearable, so Hermione, caught between a rock and a hard place, continued to refuse to speak.

She begged Harry and Ron to be understanding, but to no avail. Ron, in particular, seemed to be reacting completely out of proportion. Harry was hurt, yes. But, Ron was beyond that, it seemed to Draco.

In fact, Draco had a theory about it that he could not bring himself to discuss with Hermione, as she all ready had so much to deal with right now. He knew about the rumors that had been spread every so often around the castle that Ron and Hermione were denying their true feelings for one another. Most of their fellow students seemed to be of the opinion that it was only a matter of time before Ron spoke to Hermione about his love for her, but in almost seven years he had not done so.

Even Draco, himself, at the height of his supposed hatred for the trio had believed that Ron and Hermione would most certainly end up together. Now, he wondered again why Ron hadn't made his move. He certainly acted the jealous lover at times, as he seemed to be doing now, in Draco's opinion. Ron was afraid of Hermione's secret, afraid of her refusal to share it with him, Draco believed. He shuddered to think that Ron might choose now to declare himself. But he knew it just might happen. If so, that would only mean more heartache for everyone concerned. Draco did not wish to see that occur. He had almost decided to speak to Hermione about it after all. Perhaps he would after everything was settled with Dumbledore.

Since Harry and Ron were still angry with Hermione, she, once again could not bring herself to eat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. So, she arranged for supper in the common room as before. Draco wished to eat with her again, but she insisted that he go and eat with Crabbe and Goyle.

"You know you must, Draco," she said firmly. "We can't have them getting suspicious, can we?"

Her voice was soft, but resolute, leaving Draco no room to argue. So, he spent a miserable meal at the Slytherin table listening to his cohorts belittling everyone at the other tables…especially the Gryffindors. He did his best to play along, but his heart was no longer in it. He could only hope no one would notice his lack of enthusiasm.

At odd moments, when his attention wasn't required, Draco watched Harry and Ron. He observed that they seemed most unhappy. Each time he looked at them, they were not speaking. Most of the time they just kept their heads down, eating mechanically, and looking melancholy. Draco shook his head sadly. If only he had the right to speak to them! He knew it would have broken Hermione's heart to see them like this. It was just wrong for such good friends to be at such odds.

After eating, Draco left Crabbe and Goyle with the excuse that he must study for a potions exam. As they were no longer in potions, they would not know the difference. They seemed disappointed, but accepting of his story, so he felt free to go back to Hermione, as she waited for him in their common room.

When he arrived, he found her all wrapped up in blankets, and asleep in the window seat. She looked so peaceful, so carefree that he could not wake her. Instead, he quietly sat down beside her and kept vigil, lovingly memorizing her beautiful face…the soft, rosy flush on her cheeks, her full, red lips, and the gentle curve of her jaw. He softly touched her chestnut locks, as they fanned out on her pillow. He listened to her soft, even breathing. And he thought how everything she said and did inspired him to be great and do great things. The fact was Draco loved everything about her. He felt his heart swell as he remembered her courage, her fealty, and her strength. She did not allow for fear. Fear would never keep her from doing her part, from living her life as she felt compelled to live it. He did not feel half worthy of her, but yet he could not imagine life without her. And, one day, he meant to have her heart completely. He looked forward to it as the happiest day of his life.

Draco looked at the grandfather clock across the room from the window seat he was sharing with Hermione, and realized it was a quarter to eight. Much as he hated to do it he must wake her, so he decided to do it as gently and lovingly as possible. He moved quietly toward her, and pressed his lips to hers. He heard her sigh and felt her move under him.

"Draco…" she whispered, her eyes fluttering open.

"Yes, love," he said softly, as he gently stroked her cheek.

She looked deeply into his eyes, and smiled sleepily.

"I've missed you," she said sincerely, as she put her arms around his neck and pulled him down for another sweet, gentle kiss.

Draco had never felt such bliss. Her simple, childlike admission to missing him was without any pretense. She had meant what she said, and it touched his heart.

"I've missed you, too, sweetheart."

He pulled her tightly to him and felt her melt into him without reserve. He wished he could climb under the covers with her and hold her like this all night long…just he and Hermione in their own nest, safe from all that threatened them and their world. But, it was not to be. They must be warriors, and go out to meet their fate. He kissed her cheek, breathing her in as he did so…roses. She always smelled like the sweetest rose.

"It's time, love. We must go to see Dumbledore."

He stood and offered his hand to her gravely. With fire in her eyes, Hermione took it, let him pull her up, and without a word, they set out for Dumbledore's office.

Taking shortcuts through the castle, they arrived at the gargoyle guarding the magical hidden spiral staircase.

"Bertie Bott," Draco murmured, and the gargoyle leapt aside.

Draco handed Hermione on to the revolving steps, then stepped up behind her. She took his hand as they ascended, her eyes full of loving encouragement.

"Do not fear, Draco, only believe," she said earnestly.

He only had time to nod before they found themselves standing at the great oaken door to Dumbledore's office. Draco knocked firmly.

"Enter," The pleasant voice of the Headmaster intoned through the door, which then opened seemingly of its own volition.

Draco and Hermione hastily dropped their hands, and stepped into the familiar confines of the office. Fawkes sat on his perch just behind the door, the small silver instruments chuffed away on the spindle-legged tables, puffing out their wisps of smoke, and Dumbledore sat smilingly behind his desk. Everything was as it had always been whenever Draco and Hermione had been here for weekly meetings with Dumbledore as Head Boy and Head Girl. But, this was not a regular meeting, and Draco and Hermione felt the pressure of their purposes keenly. Dumbledore, an extremely wise old Wizard noticed the difference, and immediately looked sober. He was looking at them shrewdly over his half-moon spectacles.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

"Good evening, Draco, Hermione," he said calmly, recognizing them with a nod.

"Good evening, Professor," they replied together.

"This is not the night for our usual meeting, is it?"

Professor Dumbledore flicked his wand and two comfortable chintz chairs appeared. He indicated with a wave of his hand that Draco and Hermione were to sit down, which they did quickly.

"Tea anyone?" he asked as he turned to the cupboard behind his desk and took out a small, ornate tea pot, and set it on his desk. "I rather fancy a cup myself."

"Thank you, Sir," Draco and Hermione answered, as Dumbledore prodded the tea pot with his wand. Instantly, the little pot shook, and the sound of boiling water issued from it, along with a bit of steam. Dumbledore conjured 3 tea cups, and proceeded to pour out, doctoring each cup with cream and sugar according to the taste of the drinker. When the tea had been dealt with, and there was a tea cup in each hand, Dumbledore sat down and gave his full attention to his head boy and head girl.

"So, to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" he asked softly.

Hermione and Draco looked at one another, and Hermione nodded encouragingly.

"Sir, I wish to be completely honest," Draco began, looking his Headmaster in the eye.

"I wish you would," Dumbledore said, smiling.

Draco smiled at the Headmaster's little joke.

"Sir," he began again. "I believe you are aware of my Father's activities…of his devotion to Dark magic and to the Dark Lord, in particular."

Dumbledore did not shrink at the mention of such things, but continued to look serene.

"Yes, Draco, I am aware. He is in Azkaban, is he not, because or his devotedness?"

This was said kindly.

"Yes, Sir. That is correct,"

Draco showed no sign of offense. Hermione was watching the exchange very intently, her eyes moving from one speaker to the other.

"I am sure you also must be aware of how my father has tried to train me up in his way…that he wishes me to be a," Here Draco paused a fraction of a second. "Death Eater. I am sure you have seen all the signs?"

Draco was not really questioning the Headmaster's knowledge of him. He knew it was Dumbledore's business to know all he could about the Enemy and all his camp.

"I will not deny that I am very much aware of these things, and more."

Dumbledore's eyes were probing, but his demeanor was still very pleasant.

"That is what I thought," Draco said quietly, looking down for a moment.

He seemed to be gathering his thoughts. Dumbledore waited, while Hermione sat praying to the gods for both of them.

"For some time now, I have been reevaluating my position, and have been increasingly anxious about it. I find that I do not wish to follow after my father into service under Lord Voldemort. I do not, shall we say, have it in me to be a Death Eater. As I have told Hermione, there has always been a part of me that rebelled against my father's brutal teachings, and that part has, of late, asserted itself more firmly as my 17th birthday approaches. I have been in despair for the better part of these last six months that there was no way out for me. It was Hermione who helped me to see that I must not resign myself to the half life my father wishes to consign me to. So," now he looked at Hermione briefly and then returned his gaze to Dumbledore, "I have come, per her suggestion, to seek your help in extricating myself from my otherwise certain dark fate. I want your help in defecting from the Enemy's camp. That is, if you can find it in your heart to do so." This last was said with humility on Draco's part.

Draco quietly lowered his eyes. He did not know what else to say at the moment, so he waited for Dumbledore to speak. He only hoped he had said enough. Dumbledore looked thoughtful for some moments, clearing his throat.

"Are you saying you wish to defect to the side of right and help us? Or, do you wish me to help you to disappear only?" he asked, trying to clarify the nature of Draco's request.

Seeing Draco's haunted look, he continued.

"Make no mistake," Dumbledore said firmly, guessing the nature of Draco's distress. "I will help you no matter what your answer, because I will always aid the one who asks my aid."

Draco nodded, and feeling Hermione's eyes on him, made to reply.

"I have decided to help in the effort to vanquish the Dark Lord forever." he said soberly, almost fiercely.

He did not see Hermione's smile, but he saw the evident happiness of the Headmaster, as his eyes twinkled, and his all ready pleasant smile grew broader.

"Well, then," he said brightly, "You are very welcome to join us. I am sure you have heard we, the resistance, call ourselves the Order of the Phoenix?"

Hermione's face was wreathed in smiles, as she briefly pressed Draco's hand. He smiled at her, and then returned his gaze to the Professor.

"Yes, of course," Draco said, mirroring Dumbledore's smile. "But, can it really be that simple to get in? Don't your members have to vote on me?" he asked, sounding incredulous.

"Oh, no," Dumbledore replied calmly. "There is not time for that. I have wizards and witches coming to me all the time, wishing to join. We could not have meetings enough to vote them all in. It would not be safe. We meet as sparingly as possible so our members are not easily detected. It was voted on by our early members that I should have discretion as to the admittance of new members, and thus, I make the decision based on my own discernment."

Dumbledore stopped for a moment, again looking thoughtful.

"You said you would come of age in two weeks?" Draco nodded. "Well, of course you cannot officially join the order until you are 17, but when that day arrives, consider yourself a member."

There was a pause, as a breath that one takes when moving from one subject to another. It was obvious that Dumbledore had much more to say. Instinctively, both Draco and Hermione turned to him and waited to hear what was on his mind.

"I have a proposition for you, Draco," he said, sober once again. "I debated in my mind the whole time you spoke as to whether to speak of it, but I have decided to do so at last. What I am about to ask of you is very dangerous, I cannot deny. And again, if you do not feel that you can accept my offer, I will completely understand and will not speak of it to anyone else."

Dumbledore was again looking over the rims of his glasses pointedly.

"You are, I think, in a unique position to be of great service to the order…as a spy."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Hermione gasped, looking shocked. Surely Dumbledore could not mean to offer Draco such a dangerous position! Draco, on the other hand, remained cool and calm.

"What do you mean?"

It was Draco's turn to seek clarification of Dumbledore.

"Think of it as Lord Voldemort would, Draco. You are the son of Lucius Malfoy, one of his most trusted followers. Likely he considers you a great prize to be added to his organization, as he would not look for you to turn out to be treacherous to his cause. He, no doubt, expects that you will be as loyal as your father. So, this is what I propose. If you were to turn spy for the Order, it would be best to go to the Dark Lord when he summons you, and receive the Dark Mark, becoming, by all appearances, a Death Eater."

Hermione jumped out of her chair, her eyes wide with fright and barely controlled anger. She knew what receiving the Dark Mark entailed, having read all about it in the school library. It was a painful, dark ritual. One that could do great damage to the receiver, or even, in some cases, kill him.

"Sir, you cannot mean to really do this! It's too dangerous," she fairly bellowed. "Draco, become a Death Eater!"

Draco stood, too, but not in protest. He gently grabbed Hermione's arm.

"Hermione," he said evenly. "Please. Let's hear the Professor out. Have you ever known him to be reckless? No. He has a plan. Let us hear it."

Hermione looked wildly at Draco, but allowed him to guide her to her seat again. Professor Dumbledore was as calm as ever.

"I understand your concerns, Hermione," he said softly. "But, as Draco says, there is a method to my madness. If I may continue?"

He was polite, and waited for Hermione to nod in assent.

"I discern, Draco that you have struck up a friendship of sorts with Hermione. This is most propitious for the cause as well as for you personally. I suggest that you make it known to your Slytherin companions, Crabbe and Goyle, that you are now in a position to get to Harry Potter through one of his closest friends. Once you have convinced them that you have breached the supposed enemy's camp, by way of your relationship with Hermione, let them take it from there. Most assuredly, they will tell their fathers, who are Death Eaters as well, and word will get to Lord Voldemort. I think he will be pleased beyond description to have this seeming direct route to Harry. When you are summoned, you must tell the Dark Lord of your plans. (Do not worry, we will meet again soon, and I will feed to you what you must say at that time.) And seek permission to continue your undercover work on his behalf. Unless I am very much mistaken I do not think he will be inclined to pass up such an opportunity. I daresay, he will be thinking he might also get to me, by virtue of my position in the Order, and the relationship I have with Harry. Oh, yes!"

Dumbledore paused, smiling brightly.

"I think his mouth will positively water at the seeming possibilities."

For a moment, Hermione and Draco paused to think about all that Dumbledore had said. Their thoughts were only interrupted by his voice.

"It appears Hermione has some knowledge about how the Dark Mark is given. I will not sugar-coat this, Draco. The ritual performed to mark a Death Eater is most unpleasant, as well as painful. Has your father spoken of it?"

Dumbledore took a sip of his tea, now cold. Without looking at the cup he placed his wand in it and swirled it around. Soon steam was rising out of the cup's contents again, and Dumbledore put it to his lips as he waited for Draco's reply.

"Only briefly, did he speak of it," Draco said without apparent unease. "He seemed to think it a glorious rite of passage. At least that is how he portrayed the ritual to me….somewhat painful, but glorious," Draco smirked.

Dumbledore looked unruffled.

"I suppose Lucius would look at it that way."

At this, Dumbledore paused and looked pointedly at Draco. Hermione sniffed, and impatiently shifted in her seat but didn't interrupt again.

"Shall I tell you what I know on the subject, Draco?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

Draco looked at Hermione, who nodded. It was obvious she felt he needed to be informed.

"Yes, please, Sir," Draco replied in the calmest of tones, bracing himself.

The Professor had much to say and none of it was good. Draco listened carefully, not wishing to miss a word, while Hermione softly wept. When Dumbledore finished, silence fell over the room. Only the chuffing of the miniature magical instruments and the "tick-tock" of the old Grandfather clock in one corner of the room could be heard. Dumbledore peered at Draco gravely, but Draco gave no sign by his expression what he was thinking.

"Of course," the Headmaster continued at last. "Professor Snape and I would do all we could to protect you from the worst of the after-effects of this experience. Professor Snape will have a potion ready for you as soon as you leave the meeting place. And I will cast counter-curses over you upon your return to the castle. These things will stop the evil effects of Voldemort's spells, but, I am sorry to say, there would still be some suffering involved."

Draco's face had become more and more incredulous as Dumbledore had continued to speak.

"Professor Snape! But, Sir! He's…He's…" he spluttered.

"One of us," Professor Dumbledore interrupted, quietly insistent.

Draco looked desperately at Hermione for some form of confirmation. She nodded solemnly, her eyes wide.

"I assure you, it is true," the Headmaster continued softly. "Professor Snape has been invaluable to me, and will, I anticipate, be of immense importance to you on the night you are summoned by Voldemort. You must trust me, Draco."

Draco nodded his head, all signs of discomfit slowly leaving his face.

Professor Dumbledore paused again to sweep Draco with a mildly appraising look. Hermione was wide-eyed with fear and apprehension, but the Professor did not take his eyes from Draco, and did not see her reaction.

"Now that you are fully informed, Draco….or at least as informed as I can make you, I would look upon you with no less respect if you decided not to work in the capacity I have suggested."

Draco looked quietly up at his Headmaster, his eyes full of determination.

"I have not changed my mind, Sir," he said evenly.

Hermione gasped, even as Dumbledore stood and proffered his hand Draco to shake.

"Then, I thank you," he said respectfully. "It takes a brave heart not to quail under the certain knowledge that one must face such dark and dangerous prospects."

Dumbledore stood now, indicating that the interview was now over. He shook Draco's hand again, and smiled at Hermione, who looked somewhat worn with emotion.

"Hermione, do not worry, we will work together to pull him through this," he said, sweeping a graceful hand in Draco's direction. "Be comforted to know that he is following his heart."

Hermione nodded, and she did look comforted. Draco took her hand and began to lead her to the door.

"I will be speaking to you again soon, Draco," Dumbledore said quietly. "In the meantime, I believe that if Harry and Ron do not know about what has transpired, it would be well to let them in on it. Have you spoken to them at all?"

"No, Sir," Hermione answered immediately, a little alarmed. "Harry and Ron hate Draco…" she began.

"But not without much cause, Sir," Draco interjected honestly.

"Of course," Dumbledore said with a knowing look on his face. "Perhaps it would be better if I spoke to them first. They may be more accepting of Draco if they know I have confidence in him. Still," he said looking pointedly at Draco, "I think apologies will need to be made, don't you?"

"I am planning on it, Sir," Draco replied with soft conviction.

Dumbledore was satisfied with Draco's answer.

"Good," he said cheerfully. "Rest well."

"Goodnight, Sir," Draco and Hermione intoned.

And they left the office feeling much had been accomplished, despite the darkness still threatening to overwhelm their future together, and more importantly, the future of the entire world beyond them.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

After returning to their common room, they talked long into the night. Hermione was in the process of making peace with the fact that Draco had decided to go through with the Marking ritual.

"I'm sorry I had such a strong reaction, Draco, but at the time I could only think of you actually going through it and what it might mean," Hermione's face was anguished. "I don't want to lose you," she whispered looking down at her clutched hands.

Draco swept over to her as she sat looking almost dejected on the couch, and took her hands in his own.

"No, I am sorry to worry you, though I admit it warms my heart greatly to see that you care for me this much," he whispered, looking tenderly at her. "But, I am sure you understand that I must do what I feel I must. I have realized recently, that I have never been allowed to act on my true compelling. I have lived a coward's life so far, always pretending just to keep my father happy so no harm would come to me. I think that is what all Death Eaters do. Everyone is so afraid of them and their evil, but they are living in fear, too…fear of their unmerciful lord. I'll wager not many of them truly believe in what they are doing. It is all about self-preservation."

He stood and began to pace between the couches and the chairs by the fire, thinking out loud.

"It is strange to me to be so compelled, but it makes me feel alive and free for the first time in my life," he said, stopping the pacing and locking eyes with her.

He was pleading with her. She must stand by him in this, though he hardly felt it his right to ask it of her.

"It makes me know that I am a part of something greater than me, or my family. It is evidence of the turning of the tide in my own heart…something concrete that shows I really have the hope of becoming who I am meant to be."

He had a look of realization on his face.

"I suppose those are selfish reasons, really, for what I am about to do."

He paused again, thinking what he should say next, as he ran a hand through his white-blonde hair impatiently.

"It is hard to put in words…" he trailed off.

"No," Hermione said softly. "I do understand."

Draco went to her again, and looked deeply into her eyes. She nodded.

"You are exploring your own heart, and trying to learn to obey its commands instead of those of your father's voice and the false impulses he has tried to instill in you. I assure you, I admire you for it"

Draco looked at her incredulously, as he felt her words settle in him like a healing balm to his still wounded spirit. Tears sprung to his eyes, with the realization that she had found the words to describe what was happening in him so easily. She had understood him where he could not understand himself, and he was convinced there was no one else like her.

"That is exactly it, though I could not describe it properly!" he said feelingly.

Draco embraced Hermione; contentment filled him at being so thoroughly understood.

"So you see why I must do this?

She nodded slowly.

"Will you help me to do it?" he asked, his voice strained.

He was now looking at her earnestly, even though he knew what her answer would be. She had promised she would not let him carry his burden alone, and she would keep that promise.

"Yes,"

She was crying now, too.

"I will do all I can to help you… I love you, Draco," she whispered.

She had said it!

"These are the words I have wanted so desperately to hear," he said, as he fiercely pulled her to him. "Don'tt say them unless you are absolutely sure they are true. I don't think I could stand it if you recanted them later."

His voice was almost pleading. She held his face with gentle, loving hands.

"Draco, look at me," Hermione gently commanded.

He obeyed.

"I love you," she said slowly, her eyes full of love light. "I could not mean it anymore than I do right now. I give you my heart."

And then she kissed him, her lips utterly convincing him. Draco felt his heart nearly explode with joy. She was his, and he knew it beyond any doubt. He returned her kiss with the utmost tenderness.

"Oh, Hermione, I love you so much. I am capable of anything if I have your love."

Draco embraced her, and his kisses were more fervent than ever. Hermione closed her eyes and threw back her head as he moved down her throat with little kisses, and nibbles. His hands were wandering over her back, and hers were doing the same to him. Suddenly, Draco swept Hermione off her feet and carried her to the fluffy white rug before the fire. As he gently laid her on it, he looked deeply into her eyes. She was his world. He could have held her forever. He never wanted to be parted from her.

"Draco," she breathed. "Make love to me."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Her eyes were full of love and desire as she looked at him. Draco felt his heart begin to pound.

"Are you sure you know what you are asking?" he asked tenderly.

"Yes, my love," she answered, her eyes never leaving his. "I love you, and my heart is yours. I want to give you all of me tonight. Please, Draco."

Draco wanted very much to do all she asked, but he would not take advantage of her in a passionate moment. He knew she was a virgin, and that she saw making love as a commitment. He wanted her to know that he felt the same way. He had been with women before her, but those had been empty encounters devoid of love. He had, in fact, only been using those women...a fact that he deeply regretted now, having finally found true love. He knew he had hurt those women, for some of them had really cared for him, and he felt very guilty for what he had done to them. He never wanted to give Hermione any cause to feel used. He loved her more than his own life, and he was ready to make a life time commitment to her, if she would have him.

"My love," he said at last. "I am certain you ask this out of your heart's love for me. I want you to know how seriously I take this. If I make love to you tonight, it will be, to me a sign of the deepest kind of commitment a man and woman can make to one another. We will become one flesh. We will be promising ourselves to each other forever, never to be parted. I will be your husband, and you will be my wife."

He paused as he tried to read her expression. Her soft, full lips were curved in a gentle smile.

"I cannot bring myself to make love to you in any other capacity, darling. You are too precious to me."

His voice was shaking now with emotion, and his eyes never left hers. Her face was so beautifully innocent in the firelight. He kissed her lightly.

"Hermione Granger, will you be my wife?

She let her gaze rest upon his earnest face for only a moment. She knew she loved him, and she knew she could not live without him. There could be no one for her but him.

"Yes, Draco," she said lovingly. "I will be your wife. There is nothing I want more than to belong to you and you alone."

Her hand was gently stroking his face as she said this. He took her hand and gently kissed her palm, tears starting in his eyes. Then, he pulled her to him.

"You have made me so happy," he said his voice choked by tears. "So happy, love."

She was crying now, too, as she reached up to kiss him. They belonged to each other. That knowledge filled a void in each of them that they had not known existed until that moment.

Their lovemaking was gentle. Draco took his time with her, remembering it was her first time. He wanted to make it as easy, and peaceful, and loving a moment as he possibly could. She was beautifully trusting, letting him take the lead without a trace of anxiety in her manner. She cleaved to him, as the new emotions and physical sensations he was creating in her stole over her. And when the glorious moment of their joining came, she cried with joy as he held her to him protectively, lovingly. And it was done. The covenant in blood had been made between them. They felt the strength of its bond, and knew they could never be truly separated again.

Afterwards, he held her and stroked her beautiful chestnut locks, having covered their naked bodies with a throw from the couch.

"Are you warm enough, love?" he whispered in her ear.

"Yes," she replied softly. "I am in your arms. That is all the warmth I need."

He smiled at her, and she laid her head on his shoulder as he continued to brush through her hair with his fingers. Soon he heard her soft, even breathing, and he knew she was asleep. He kissed the top of her head tenderly, and let sleep come for him as well.

A few hours later, Hermione awoke to find that Draco was gone. She felt strangely bereft without his warm presence beside her.

"Draco," she whispered.

"Right here, love," he said, coming out of his room, dressed in his robe. "I went to get something for you."

He lay down beside her, and produced a small, dark velvet jewelry box from his pocket. He held it out to her. Even in the firelight Hermione could tell that it was old. It had a little silver clasp holding the lid in place. Modern jewelry boxes never had a clasp of any kind. Hermione sat up as she took the little box in her hand. Draco sat up, too.

"What is this?" she asked, her eyes wide.

"Open it," Draco said, smiling.

Carefully flipping open the delicate clasp, Hermione lifted the lid. Nestled inside was a very beautiful, very old ring. It was made of very fine silver, and was set with a large flawless emerald. Around the emerald were several small, clear diamonds. Hermione gasped. Draco's smile grew wider.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"Of course," Hermione breathed. "It's gorgeous."

"It's yours, darling." he said, obviously pleased at her reaction to his gift.

"Mine?" she said, puzzled.

"Yes," he said. "This ring is a symbol of our love, and the commitment we have made to each other this very night."

He paused, looking into her eyes lovingly.

"It is a wedding ring, love. I am giving it to you because you are my wife."

Hermione's eyes widened.

"But, Draco, where did you get it? It looks like an antique."

"That ring has been in my family for generations," he said softly. "All of the Malfoy wives have worn it at one time or another. My mother gave it to me just before I left for school this year. Since my father went to Azkaban, Mother and I have grown a little closer. She had gotten in the habit over the summer of calling me to her room to talk. One day, just a week before I was to leave, Mother summoned me. I went to her, expecting another visit like all the others, but instead she gave me this ring. She said I must give it to my wife one day. Obviously, Mother has very different ideas about marriage than my father. He had forbidden me to marry, at least until he gave me permission, and only so I could produce the next Malfoy heir. Mother, on the other hand, spoke to me of love and commitment. I remember feeling a little bit shocked by her speech, because I had thought her so hard before then. Her words to me were, 'Don't make the same mistakes your father and I made. Find the one you truly love and give this ring to her, and no other.'"

Draco paused. He was staring at the fire, with a thoughtful look in his eyes.

"Then she hugged me for the first time in many years, and sent me away."

Hermione took his hand in hers and kissed it.

"That is a very beautiful story, dearest," she said quietly.

Draco smiled at her, and took the little box from her. He opened it, and carefully removed the beautiful ring.

"With this ring, I thee wed," he said, with a clear voice, locking his eyes to hers.

And he picked up Hermione's left hand and slowly slipped the cool, silver band on to her ring finger.

"Oh, Draco!" she cried, throwing herself into his arms. "This is the happiest day of my life."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

A dull, cold Friday morning found Draco and Hermione waking up in one another's arms, tired but joyful. The weekend was coming, and they longed to spend every minute of it together, enjoying their newfound relationship.

Draco had determined that that night he would speak to Crabbe and Goyle as Dumbledore had instructed him, thus taking out one more obstacle to his implementing the plan that he and the Headmaster had hatched. After that, he felt sure he could rest a while, and with Hermione's help, prepare for the next step, which presumably would be the summoning and the taking of the Mark.

He found he could not, at this moment, be nervous about that dark event…not when the woman he loved was so near. He had fought the battle for Hermione's heart and won. Nothing could have exhilarated him more. Nothing could have made him feel more free and capable.

It was a wrench for Draco to say goodbye to Hermione as they parted ways for the day's classes. After all that had transpired the night before he felt particularly alone without her. So, after they had dined separately in the Great Hall at their respective tables, he followed her out into the corridors as inauspiciously as possible. His plan was to catch her at the hidden corridor behind the purple and gold tapestry.

He knew it was her habit to visit the girl's bathroom just across from said tapestry, so after watching her go in, he then waited impatiently for her to come out. When she did, he came up behind her, happy that the corridor was all but empty, as he grabbed her and without a word led her quickly to their secret hiding place. Giggling with glee, Hermione hugged Draco to her.

"You startled me!"

She had put a look of mock anger on her face, but the next moment was giggling again.

"I'm sorry, love," Draco said, not looking sorry at all. "I just missed you."

Hermione cocked an eyebrow at him.

"All ready?" she said with a big smile. "We've only just had breakfast."

Draco looked suddenly sober. Hermione laughed.

"It's all right, dearest." she whispered, her eyes full of love. "I missed you, too."

Draco smiled gently, as he pulled her into his arms and pressed his lips to hers. Soon they were kissing passionately, classes forgotten. They were so engrossed in each other that they didn't hear someone move the tapestry aside, nor see the sudden infusion of light from the corridor surrounding them.

"Oi, what's all this??!!" a voice bellowed behind them angrily.

Hermione and Draco jumped apart and spun round to see two figures silhouetted in pale sunlight. It was impossible to see the intruders' faces in that light. But cold hard fear filled her notwithstanding, for Hermione was certain she knew that voice.

"Ron?" she asked timidly, shielding her eyes from the light.

"Yeah, it's me, and Harry, too," Ron said, peering at the two people before him in the shadows.

"What's going on here?"

Ron's eyes locked on Draco and narrowed dangerously.

"Is that you, Malfoy?!" His voice was low and frightening.

Draco stepped up without hesitating, pushing Hermione firmly behind him. He knew Ron had a temper and wished to remove her from the line of fire.

"I knew it!!!" Ron bellowed. "I saw you dragging Hermione back here! What the hell are you doing to her?!"

Ron made to lunge at Draco, but Harry, who had said nothing to this point, grabbed his arm, restraining him with some effort. Draco regarded Ron coolly, knowing he must stay calm and make no sudden moves.

"Nothing she doesn't want me to do," he said firmly.

Ron shook free of Harry and strode directly over to Hermione, his eyes burning into hers.

"Ron," Harry said warningly.

"Get off it, Harry!" Ron replied, without looking at him.

His focus was on Hermione alone. Though she very much wanted to, she did not let her gaze drop. She kept her face as impassive as possible.

"Hermione," he said, his voice dangerously quiet and his face red with the effort of keeping his temper from getting away from him.

"Ron," Hermione returned calmly.

"Please tell me that the ferret here was manhandling you against your will, so I can beat him to a pulp and curse him into next month."

Ron's voice was even, almost polite. His eyes however told the whole story. He was about to fly to pieces, and Hermione could do nothing else but remain completely calm.

"Draco was not manhandling me. He was kissing me, and I was kissing him," she said softly, never letting her eyes leave Ron's.

Ron's eyes went wide as he stumbled backwards almost knocking Harry down, as he tried to catch him. He looked as though Hermione had slapped him.

"What??!!" he bellowed again, his face scarlet. "You mean to tell me you're with him??!!"

Hermione moved toward Ron, and Draco tried to grab her arm to stop her.

"Ron, please!" she pled. "Just let us explain!"

"First of all, I am not acknowledging an "us" where Malfoy is concerned, especially in connection with you!" he pointed at her, and stepped forward until his finger was in her face.

Draco was at her side in an instant, looking almost murderous.

"Watch it, Weasley!" he said with cold fury.

But Ron only ignored him and continued facing Hermione down.

"Second, I don't want to hear anything from you," he jabbed his finger at her for emphasis, "unless it's that you are leaving with us right now and leaving this Slytherin in the dark where he belongs! This is Malfoy, Hermione! Have you lost your bloody mind?! He's a dark wizard if ever there was one! You can't mean to be anywhere near him, let alone kissing him!"

Hermione raised herself up to her full height, her eyes blazing with anger.

"It so happens, Ronald Weasley, that I love Draco, and nothing you can say or do will change my mind," she yelled, with furious hand gestures accompanying the words.

Harry had stepped up to Ron and had his hand on Ron's arm again. Now, after hearing Hermione's confession, he dropped his face into the other hand, dejectedly.

"Oh, Hermione," Harry whispered.

Ron seemed incapable of speech for a moment. His mouth was working up and down, but no words were forthcoming. His eyes looked teary. Then suddenly he found his voice again.

"NOOOOO!" he screamed, clenching his fists. "YOU CAN'T MEAN THAT!!

Without warning, Ron pushed Hermione out of the way and dove for Draco. He was like a charging bull as he hit Draco full force in the chest with his body.

"NO!" shrieked Hermione, jumping up from the fall she had taken.

But before she could try to pull Ron off Draco, Harry had grabbed her, restraining her with all the strength he possessed. No matter how hard Hermione struggled she was no match for Harry.

"Let me go, Harry! Let me go!" she pled, still struggling as she watched the scuffle before her.

Ron was punching at Draco with all his might, bellowing at the top of his voice.

"YOU LEAVE HER ALONE, YOU FERRET! HOW DARE YOU TOUCH HER! STAY AWAY FROM HER, YOU HEAR ME??!!"

"No, Hermione! There is nothing you can do! You're no match for Ron! I will only let you go if you'll promise to stay out of this and let me handle it!" Harry yelled, breathing heavily from fighting to keep her away from the fight.

Draco, for his part, was not retaliating against Ron's vicious attack. Instead, he only held his arms up in self-defense. He didn't even pull his wand out, as he might have done at any other time. This was Hermione's best friend, and he knew she wouldn't want him to hurt Ron if he could help it.

Meanwhile, Hermione had given up trying to escape Harry.

"All right, All right!" she cried angrily. "Just stop them!"

Harry released her, and jumped into the fray, as Hermione watched, ringing her hands and yelling at the top of her voice, begging Ron to stop his assault. For several agonizing moments, all Hermione could see was a tangle of arms and legs and cloaks scrabbling around on the cold flagstone floor.

"All right, Ron!!" Harry shouted. "That's enough! You've done enough damage now! Stop it!"

Harry emerged from the pile on the floor with someone clutched in both hands. With some effort, he lifted the still struggling Ron up and began to drag him away from Draco, who remained on the ground in a heap. Hermione ran to him, falling to her knees, her eyes wild with fright.

"Draco?!" she bent over him, trying to turn him over so she could examine him. "Are you all right?!"

He didn't answer her. As she finally found a way to roll him over, she heard Harry struggling to keep Ron away. Hermione gently bent over Draco again in the gloom. She could not see him properly without more light, so she whipped out her wand.

"Lumos" she murmured desperately.

A gasp escaped her as she beheld Draco's face. There was blood everywhere, oozing from his nose and a few cuts on his forehead and chin. His eyes were closed and he was groaning quietly.

"Hermione," he whispered. "Are you all right?"

Hermione felt as if her heart might break. Here he was beaten half to death, and he was worried about her!

"Don't you worry about me," she said softly, taking out a handkerchief and gently wiping his face. "I'm fine. You're the one who looks like you've come through a war."

From what she could hear behind her, Ron had calmed down considerably. At least she couldn't hear any signs of a struggle.

"Harry," she called behind her, and he stepped over to her instantly. "We'll have to get him to the Hospital Wing. Is Ron all right?"

"He's fine," Harry replied wearily. "I think Malfoy got the worst of it."

Hermione heard a note of satisfaction in his voice. She glared up at him, tears springing to her eyes.

"Will you help me get him to Madame Pomfrey?"

Her words were clipped and almost cold. Harry nodded.

"No," Draco protested feebly. "Just get me to my room. I'll be fine."

Hermione peered at him incredulously.

"Draco, please," Hermione cried. "Be sensible. You need attention. Of course you'll see Madame Pomfrey! Come on Harry."

Harry moved to help Draco up.

"No," Draco insisted. "Just get me to my room."

Hermione was about to argue with him again, but Harry touched her arm to silence her.

"Better listen to him, Hermione. You'd do well not to excite him. Let him rest in his room, and if he still needs attention you can talk him into it later."

Harry looked at Draco closely as he lay on the floor his eyes closed, cuts still bleeding.

"These things sometimes look worse than they are," Harry said carefully. "Come on, let's get him to his bed. Can you walk, Malfoy?"

Harry's voice was cold, but polite. In response, Draco slowly sat up with Hermione's and Harry's help. Ron just prowled around behind them glaring fixedly on the scene. He made no move to help his enemy or his friends. In a moment, Draco was standing, one arm on Harry and the other on Hermione. He felt incredibly dizzy.

"Take as many shortcuts as you can," he said weakly. "We don't want to be seen."

Hermione nodded, and she and Harry slowly shuffled Draco out into the corridor, with Ron following sullenly behind.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Not surprisingly, Ron made no move toward helping Harry and Hermione as they all but carried Draco out of the hidden nook. He spoke not one word to his friends, but stalked off, still looking murderous, as soon as he was past the tapestry.

It took some doing, but through Harry's and Draco's combined knowledge of the many secret passageways in the castle, the three were able to make it to Draco and Hermione's common room nearly undetected. Only a couple of first years saw anything of them, and they were so terrified at the sight of Draco's mangled and bloodied face that they ran off as fast as their legs would carry them.

As soon as Harry helped Hermione lay Draco on his bed, he made to go.

"Wait, Harry," Hermione said beseechingly, reaching a hand out to him.

Harry let his gaze rest on her a moment, the look on his face unreadable. He did not take her proffered hand.

"Please, Harry! You must promise me that at least you and I will talk as soon as possible. I know Ron's not ready, the senseless git!" she finished miserably.

Harry shook his head and sighed heavily.

"I don't know if I'm ready."

His voice was pained, but not condemning.

Then he turned and was gone…

Hermione could have sat down and cried right then, but for Draco's groan reminding her of his need of her.

"Hermione," Draco's voice was very weak.

"Oh, Draco!" she said nervously wringing her hands. "Can I get you something…anything?"

She began examining his face closely.

"Oh, look at that nose!" she exclaimed. I'm sure it is broken, but I can fix that."

Standing over Draco, determination in her eyes, she whipped out her wand and passed it over Draco's nose. She muttered under her breath, and Draco felt warmth spread over his face and a tingling sensation in his nose. Suddenly, the pain was gone, and Draco relaxed as Hermione then ran the tip of her wand over each cut on his face, making them disappear instantly.

These ministrations performed, Draco watched as she hurried to his bathroom, and a few minutes later returned with a small basin. Without a word, she began gently washing away the blood left on his face…the only remaining evidence of the pounding he had taken from Ron not half an hour ago.

"Do you think you could stand some tea?" she asked, still anxious to help him any way she could.

"In just a moment, love," Draco said, taking her hand in his, and looking at her lovingly through his rapidly blackening eyes.

"Oh, your eyes!" Hermione exclaimed. "I wonder where we could get a hold of some Bruise Banishing Potion," she wondered to herself, without looking at Draco.

"Hermione," Draco tried again. "Please."

"Oh, why won't you go to Madame Pomfrey!" Hermione seemed beside herself. "I am no professional, you know. And I am sure she would have the potions you need."

Draco groaned again, this time in frustration.

Hermione looked at him apologetically and squeezed his hand.

"I'm sorry, dearest," she said quietly. "What is it?"

"I'm sorry about all of this…Harry and Ron…"

His voice trailed off and Hermione felt tears come to her eyes.

"Oh, no, darling!" she cried. "Don't think of it. Ron was out of control. You are in no way responsible…"

"I should have been more careful, more discreet," Draco interrupted. "Of course Ron would be upset…"

"Upset?!" It was Hermione's turn to interrupt. "Yes, I'll go along with Ron being upset, but he had no right to get violent!" she practically shouted.

Draco gently stroked Hermione's hand to calm her. She immediately climbed down off her soap box, remembering she was supposed to be comforting him, not the other way around.

"Don't worry. I'm sure Dumbledore will be talking to Harry and Ron soon. That should help the situation," she said gently.

Draco smiled indulgently, amusement in his every feature.

"You know, you're a regular little spitfire. I saw you struggling with Harry." he chuckled.

"You saw that?" Hermione laughed, too, as she colored. "Well, I was just really angry, and afraid," she said, suddenly teary.

Draco pulled her to him, and began stroking her hair lovingly. She curled up beside him, getting comfortable in the crook of his arm. It was obvious Draco was tired, and the more Hermione calmed down the more exhausted she felt. One more thought came to her before she let her eyes close in sleep.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"For what, love"

"You didn't fight back," she paused to stifle a yawn. "I know you did that for me. So, thank you."

"You're welcome," Draco said gently, his eyes dropping closed.

An hour later, Hermione shot up and scrambled from the bed.

"Good gods!" she shouted. "What have we done!"

"What is it?" he asked as he sat up and looked at her, still extremely groggy.

"Classes, Draco!" she cried. "We have missed Charms completely, and if we don't hurry…" she looked at her watch, "we'll miss potions as well! Snape will have our…" she paused to amend herself, "well, my head!"

The whole time Hermione talked she was rushing about straightening her hair and robes and grabbing up her book bag hurriedly. Draco, meantime, drug himself slowly off the bed and headed to his wardrobe to retrieve a fresh robe and shirt to replace their bloodied counterparts. His face was pained, as though each step was an agony. Even in her great rush, Hermione noticed his suffering.

"Oh, but you might not be well enough for classes yet, Draco," she said gently as she walked over to him to offer him a hand. "Hadn't you better stay in bed?"

"I can't," he said with a sharp intake of breath as he tried to reach into his wardrobe. "If I don't get to class someone will want to know why. I have a feeling we'll have some pretty tall explaining to do anyway." He groaned as he began to unbutton his robe.

"Are you sure you won't let me take you to Madame Pomfrey, darling? You are obviously in pain. You just need a potion to help with…"

But, Draco interrupted her with a pained looked of determination. His answer was in his eyes, and it had not changed.

"No, I'll be all right. Just a little stiff," he said rather unconvincingly.

"Draco…" Hermione began again, trying to reason with him.

"Hermione," Draco said a bit sharply. "I can't go to the hospital wing without risking getting Ron in trouble. Don't you see that? Madame Pomfrey would most assuredly want to know what happened to me, and I don't think either of us could come up with a convincing story to cover my various, er, injuries. Do you?"

Hermione was immediately cowed. She could not believe that she had not thought of that. What was even more amazing is that Draco had, and he was willing to endure whatever pain necessary to see that Ron was not punished for this incident.

"Of—Of course," Hermione stammered, her tears threatening to spill over. "I didn't think of that angle. I guess I was only thinking of your pain, your injuries."

Draco looked at her softly, and took her hands in his.

"And I appreciate it, love. Really, I do," he said softly. "Help me dress?" he asked, moving painfully toward the wardrobe again. "I know I'll be better once my muscles loosen up."

With quick, but gentle hands Hermione did as he had bid her. In no time, Draco was in his fresh shirt and robes, and she was helping him out of their portrait hole.

Hurrying as fast as Draco's ravaged body would allow, they arrived at the dungeon class room of Professor Snape, Hogwarts surly potions master, a half hour late. They looked at each other one last time, feeling no small amount of trepidation. Then, taking one last deep breath, Draco and Hermione pushed through the heavy wooden doors to meet their fate head on.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

The creaking hinges of the ancient wooden doors noisily heralded Draco's and Hermione's arrival. Hermione cringed as she noted that all eyes were upon them. Draco, on the other hand, instinctively put on his best "I don't care" smirk and glared his class mates down, before turning his full attention to Professor Snape.

Snape had apparently been in the middle of one of his characteristic rants at the hapless Gryfindor, Neville Longbottom, whose cauldron was hissing and smoking ominously, and filling the room with the most noxious of odors. Snape straightened up immediately and let his cruel black eyes sweep over the late-comers disdainfully.

"Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger," he said coldly. "So good of you to join us…at the last."

Draco, being careful to behold his head of house with the proper mixture of careless unconcern and respect, spoke before Hermione could explain.

"Sir, I met with a little accident…" he began.

"Yes. Potter told me."

Snape spat out Harry's sir name as though it left a bad taste in his mouth.

"Something about you losing your footing when one of the shifting staircases took it upon itself to move…" he said dismissingly, waving an airy hand at what he obviously considered as inconsequential as that morning's breakfast menu.

"Yes, Sir," Draco said, keeping his temper carefully in check.

Snape then turned his gimlet-like eyes on Hermione, who was doing her best to look convincing and calm.

"And, Miss Granger was kind enough to assist you after your calamity?" he asked smoothly, his eyes narrowing.

"Yes, Sir. I…" Draco began again, but was stopped by Snape's gesturing for silence, his eyes never leaving Hermione's now paling face.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy, I am now addressing Ms. Granger," he said coldly. "Miss Granger?" he inquired with mock politeness.

"Yes, Sir," Hermione began nervously. "As Head Girl, I felt it incumbent upon me to do all I could, so I…" Snape's dismissive hand went up again.

"Spare me the details, Miss Granger," Snape said with quiet disdain.

Hermione looked down at her feet in embarrassment, while Draco continued to let his eyes glint with just a hint of defiance at the Potions Master.

"The fact is, Ms. Granger, Mr. Malfoy, you have missed a great deal of class today, and your fellow students are more than half finished brewing the sleeping draught assigned."

Snape eyed them for a moment before turning his shrewd eyes on Draco, alone.

"You are an excellent potions student, Mr. Malfoy. And due to the extenuating circumstances leading to your lateness, I am inclined to be gracious. You have a free period next class, do you not?" he asked almost beneficently.

"Yes, Sir,"

"Good, then I will allow you to brew your potion at that time for full marks," he said with what Draco supposed was a smile of sorts, his yellow teeth flashing, before abruptly turning away.

Draco was incensed, and found he could not hold his tongue. Hermione saw what Draco was about to do, and swallowed hard, fighting the impulse to squeeze her eyes shut.

"Sir?" Draco said with a clear, almost commanding voice.

Professor Snape spun around, looking obviously much put out at this summoning.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy," he said in a dangerously quiet tone.

"Sir, Ms. Granger also has a free period next class," he said pointedly, never looking away from the menacing wizard before him.

Snape, for a fraction of a moment, let utter surprise register on his features. But, it only took another fraction of a moment for his countenance to change to morbid anger. His jaw clenched slightly, as he addressed Hermione without looking at her.

"Ms. Granger, you may brew your potion then, as well," he ground out.

And, with a whirl of his jet black robes, Professor Snape took off, putting observers very much in mind of a large black bat taking flight. It was obvious that Snape wanted to put as much space between himself and the embarrassment of the scene as quickly as he could.

Draco, without a glance toward Hermione, turned and headed toward his lab table and Crabbe's and Goyle's incredulous faces. Hermione turned toward her own table and Ron and Harry, who looked no less incredulous. In fact, the entire roomful of students was in something of a quiet uproar.

This fact was apparently not lost on Snape, who looking angrier than ever began peppering the room with detentions indiscriminately, in an effort to quash the burst of sudden and uncontrollable whispering and finger-pointing.

The rest of the class went along without incident. Hermione sat quietly beside Harry and waited for some cue that he was approachable, but none came. She knew better than to expect Ron to even acknowledge her existence, and she was not disappointed. For, Ron spent a great deal of the time ostentatiously ignoring her. He never once looked at her, and several times he turned his back to her. He spoke to Harry in over exaggerated tones, to make the point that he was talking, just not to her.

When the class was over, Hermione sighed with relief. She had done her best to pretend that Ron's mistreatment of her wasn't registering, but the truth was that it had most certainly hit its mark. She wished with all her heart that there was something she could say to ease him, but she knew that nothing short of her abject apology and a promise never to speak to Draco again would do. Since this was not possible, the only thing left was to wait him out. The only problem with that plan was that Hermione had the sneaking suspicion that Ron could hold on to this grudge forever. That thought made her want to cry, but casting around in her mind for another solution, she could find none. She would just have to trust to time and tide and walk on.

Abruptly, Hermione's thoughts were on Draco and his defense to Professor Snape of her right to make her potion. She cringed for the second time that day as she remembered how angry Snape had been. Hermione could not remember ever seeing him that angry before. Draco had taken a very grave risk, and it had been for her benefit and her benefit alone. And, he had done it before every student in the room. It would not have occurred to her to expect it of him. She had been prepared to go back to her table without so much as one word of protest. And she would have done it, but for Draco's insistence.

Of course, Hermione knew there was every chance that this wasn't over yet. Snape had been livid. It was very likely he was, at this very moment, plotting his revenge against her. And Hermione could not fully believe that his plans would not concern Draco as well. She knew Draco was Professor Snape's favorite student, but Draco had really overreached his bounds in what he had done. It was safest to assume that the fact of Snape's benevolence toward Draco, such as it was, had been sorely enough tested to warrant some form of retaliation.

At that moment in her contemplation, Draco interrupted Hermione's thoughts.

"What are you thinking so hard about?" he asked, bemused.

Hermione looked up at him, letting her thoughts drift away, as she concentrated on his smiling face. Then, she looked around them, and seeing no one else in the room, she spoke freely.

"How are you feeling, Draco?" she asked, her voice expressing honest concern.

"I'm still a little stiff, but mending," he said airily.

"And what were you thinking, confronting Snape like that?" she asked, her face suddenly etched with exasperation.

"You're welcome," Draco answered somewhat grimly, his smile disappearing.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Hermione said penitently. "Of course I'm grateful, but you took such a risk!" she finished.

Draco was smiling again, but the spark in his eyes hardened his look.

"Don't worry, love. I can handle Snape. He is, after all, one of my father's closest associates," he reassured. "At least, that is the face he portrays."

"Only because he must, being he is a double agent of sorts," Hermione said with a grimace. "I know he belongs to the Order, but I still think he has a vicious streak in him,

and he is sneaky. I've a feeling he can find ways to retaliate without implicating himself."

"You're probably right, but I still don't want you to worry. I don't think anyone, except perhaps the Dark Lord, would come anywhere near messing with my father, whether he's in Azkaban or not," he said, letting his smile reach his eyes.

Draco looked carefully around the classroom, and finding that they were still alone, took her in his arms, letting his warmth surround her. Hermione felt her stomach immediately unclench from its stress-induced knot. She laid her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes, and breathing in his wonderful scent. Draco gently stroked her back, as she clung to him.

"This is nice," she whispered, feeling the last of the tension leave her body.

Draco reached down and gently lifted her chin, his poor blackened eyes looking deeply into hers. He said nothing. He didn't have to, because it was all there in his heartfelt expression. And she felt her heart answer his without reserve.

_I love you more than anyone or anything in this world._

This hopelessly beautiful, all-encompassing communication hung between them, enveloped them, like some gloriously palpable, silvery cloud, which could take them far away from all choice, all indecision, all danger, and all fear.

Hermione felt as though she had been hypnotized. .. As if all she was capable of seeing, hearing, and feeling in that moment was Draco. And she wished more than anything for that cloud to lift off and take them to a place where there was no immanent war, in which they must take part. Tears sprung to her eyes at the thought, and as they fell silently to her cheeks, Draco reverently brushed them away with his thumb. He did not ask why she was crying. He all ready knew.

"I am thinking of last night, love," he whispered, hoping to bring her back to the wonder they had shared.

Hermione nodded slowly, her cheeks flushing prettily at the memory. Draco took her small hand in his larger one, and put it to his lips. After gently kissing her palm, he let it drop between them and pulled her closer. Their eyes met and the passion of the night before was ignited again. Fervently, Draco kissed her, and she sighed, feeling the heat coursing through her body.

"Hermione," Draco murmured against her lips. "I love you."

Hermione let her hands intertwine behind his neck, as she pulled him to her again, her lips taking his once more. The kiss was deeper this time, and more urgent. So much so, that when they pulled apart they were breathless.

"Oh, Draco," Hermione breathed. "I love you, too!"

He moved to embrace her again, and there was nothing she wanted more in the world at that moment, but she forced herself to stop him with a gentle shove.

"Draco," she whispered. "We are still in Snape's classroom. We have to stop."

Draco appraised her with no trace of anger, but his desire for her was evident in his smoldering grey eyes. Hermione felt her stomach drop pleasantly, and a seductive smile spread over her face.

"To be continued then," Draco said, his voice matching the stormy look in his eyes.

"To be continued," Hermione agreed no less passionately.

Reluctantly, the couple pulled apart.

"We'd better start on the sleeping draught," Hermione said tonelessly, feeling not at all excited about the work.

"Don't sound so excited," Draco said with a grin.

Hermione was in process of grinning back, when Professor Snape suddenly pushed through the heavy doors, with a force that caused them to slam into the wall on either side. His face was angry beyond description.

"What now?" Draco murmured under his breath.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

As soon as he was through the doors, Snape charged directly at Draco and Hermione, his dark eyes oppressively upon them the whole way. He was, if possible, more intimidating than they had ever seen him. He looked something like a great black storm cloud, with his robes roiling around him furiously with every step. When he arrived at his destination, he towered over Draco and Hermione, eyes hard, breathing coming in ragged gasps.

Hermione was shaking with anxiety, and Draco instinctively wrapped one arm protectively around her, while reaching into his robes to grasp his wand, his eyes full of challenge. If Snape had lost his bloody mind and meant to do them harm, Draco was more than prepared to go down shielding Hermione.

"Professor?" Draco said evenly, without the slightest hint of alarm in his voice.

Snape stood panting, trying to catch his breath. He looked as though he had run the entire length of the grounds, his anger spurring him on. Then, he drew himself up to an impressive height, narrowing his eyes for a moment at his two students.

"Shall we agree to leave off all pretence, Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Granger?" he asked coldly.

Draco and Hermione looked at one another, dumbfounded. Draco squeezed the wand inside his cloak a little tighter.

"What do you mean, Sir?" he asked calmly.

Snape began to pace, his robes trailing him fluidly.

"We do not have a lot of time…" he murmured distractedly. "I spoke to Dumbledore late last night, and I know, Mr. Malfoy, of your change of heart, and your decision to join the Order," he said in more subdued tones, as he drew nearer to the couple.

"Yes?" Draco said, not releasing his grip on his wand the tiniest fraction.

Hermione was staring unabashedly at Snape. What could his behavior mean? Why would such knowledge anger the Potion's Master?...Unless, he really was still in the service of the Dark Lord, and had fooled Dumbledore and the other Order Members. What if he had fooled everyone? Had he come to take Draco away or worse yet, kill him?

Hermione surreptitiously slid her hand into her robes to search out her own wand. With sudden lithe grace, she was in front of Draco, wand out, eyes blazing. She felt Draco's restraining hands on her wand arm and heard him breathe her name, but she violently shook him off.

"You won't take him!" she cried insistently, eyes flashing. "Not without a fight!"

Snape sneered at Hermione, his face the very picture of extreme annoyance.

"You misunderstand me, Ms. Granger," he said with a quick wave of his hand. "I am not here to take Mr. Malfoy anywhere…though I am sure that both Mr. Malfoy and I are very impressed by your characteristic display of _typical_ Gryffindor courage."

The word "typical" was said with Snape's well-known cutting sarcasm.

"Then why are you here…Sir?" she asked guardedly, without lowering her wand.

Snape ignored Hermione's continued distrustful stance.

"I am sent to you from Dumbledore," he said, his tone urgent."

At the sound of Dumbledore's name, Hermione's jaw and her wand dropped simultaneously, and her eyes widened.

"I am s-sorry, Sir…" she stuttered, as images of her packing her trunk to return home after being summarily expelled flitted before her mind's eye.

"There is no time for this, I tell you!" he said irritatedly. " I am to bring you to Dumbledore's office immediately. Apparently, there has been a massive prison break in Azkaban. Several Death Eaters were among those who escaped. The Dark Lord has certainly orchestrated this event. He is calling all his faithful servants to him. Dumbledore fears that things will begin to happen in earnest now."

Hermione gasped, and Draco let his shaking head drop into one of his hands.

"Good gods," Draco whispered.

"I take it that means you understand that your father is among those who escaped, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said evenly, though not unkindly.

Draco did not answer. He was overwhelmed with a myriad of thoughts and emotions. His Father! Escaped! Anything might happen now! Lord Voldemort had finally made a definitive move toward accelerating the events of the War. Certainly, he must have plans to put his reinstated Death Eaters into service somehow. What could he be planning to do? What would be his next move?

Hermione peered at Draco, loving concern in her eyes. Then, she took his hand.

"Come," she whispered. "Dumbledore is waiting."

Professor Snape turned, as if on cue, and lead Draco and Hermione out of the safety of the classroom, and into what appeared to be, for all intents and purposes, a whole new era for the Wizarding World.

A quarter of an hour later, Professor Snape, Draco, and Hermione stepped off the revolving staircase before Dumbledore's oaken office door. Snape, having the dubious distinction of being leader of this little group, reached up and knocked firmly.

Immediately, Dumbledore bid them enter. Upon stepping into the now familiar room Draco and Hermione's eyes fell immediately upon Harry and Ron, who were turning in their seats before Dumbledore's desk to see who was coming. As soon as Ron saw his best friend and arch enemy he purposefully dropped his eyes and would not look at them; his face a mask of misery and stubborn pride. But Harry with a grim nod, flicked his wand at the space beside him, thus conjuring two more chairs for them. As they moved to their seats, Dumbledore, who was in his customary position behind his desk, greeted them.

"Ms. Granger…Mr. Malfoy, I see Professor Snape has delivered you safely to our little meeting."

The Headmaster's voice was polite, but firm; his eyes full of grave concern. By this time, Professor Snape had taken his place behind the Head Master, and beside Professor McGonagall, who looked supremely displeased with the whole situation. She nodded at the new comers with her trademark crispness.

"Yes, Sir," Draco intoned formally.

But, his eyes were snapping, and it was obvious to all in attendance that he wished to hear any and all available information and the sooner the better.

"I assume Professor Snape has filled you in as to the situation we are now facing?" Dumbledore asked gravely.

"Yes, Sir," Hermione said softly. "But, I for one still have many questions."

"As do we all, Ms. Granger," Dumbledore said with a small smile. "As do we all. But, I can only tell you what we know so far. I am afraid the news isn't good."

Their was a general murmur around the room, and Dumbledore let it continue for a brief few seconds, before raising his hand for silence. Then, he turned his head slightly, in the direction of Professor McGonagall.

"Did you say you were able to reach Arthur and Molly Weasley, Professor?" he asked politely.

"Yes, Professor," said McGonagall with her most matter-of-fact voice. "Arthur says he is keeping his ear to the very ground at the Ministry. He will, of course, keep us all informed as to any news. He and Molly will also be alerting as many Order Members as they possibly can," she finished.

"Good. Good," Professor Dumbledore said appreciatively. "All seems in hand, so we will move along."

He then turned to the group, looking carefully at each of them.

"As you know, there has been a prison break at Azkaban. It is more than certain that Voldemort is behind this. Azkaban, being the fortress that it is, with all the protective and restraining spells over it, not to mention the guards, would normally be impregnable. It would take a very powerful Wizard indeed to breach its formidable walls. Besides, most of those who escaped are Death Eaters."

Dumbledore paused, looking at Draco, who held the Professors gaze steadily until Dumbledore again looked away to address the group.

"I don't suppose I have to tell any of you that one of the escapees is Lucius Malfoy," he continued evenly. "This is particularly bad news for those on the side of right. Lucius is one of Lord Voldemort's most faithful servants. He has done, shall we say….much to further the Dark Lord's cause."

The Head Master shifted in his chair and let his eyes fall on Fawkes, the beautiful scarlet-plumed phoenix on his perch beside the door. He looked contemplative for a moment, as though he were remembering some long past event. Then, he shook himself from his reverie and continues in subdued, but firm tones.

"Of course, this event was not wholly unexpected. As head of the Order of the Phoenix, it is my business to know as much as possible about the plans of the Enemy camp. I employ many fine Wizards to keep their eyes and ears open, should any helpful information come along. I am most grateful to them, for they risk life and limb every day to keep me informed. That being said, I have it on very good authority that this break out is only the beginning step to Lord Voldemort's plans. The story now being circulated is that an attack of one kind or another is imminent. We do not yet know where, or when, so we must watch and wait a little longer. But, when the time comes I am sure I can count on everyone in this room to participate."

There was a general murmur of assent, rippling across the room. Hermione, whose eyes had not one time left the Professor's face as he spoke, took the opportunity to surreptitiously glance at Ron. He sat hunched in his chair, looking petulant. He was not speaking, or even nodding his head. But, the fact that he did not jump out of his chair in protest, was a testament to Dumbledore's powers of persuasion. For, it was clear to Hermione that Dumbledore had taken advantage of his few minutes alone with Harry and Ron to fill them in on Draco's decision to turn away from Lord Voldemort and his father, and his new disposition in the Order. Ron would only have accepted such news from his revered Headmaster so meekly. But, it was equally clear that he didn't believe Draco was a changed man. It was equally clear that he hadn't forgiven Draco nor Hermione for their earlier "crimes" in the hidden nook. She could only hope that Ron would be able to work peaceably with Draco, as the situation demanded.

Draco, who had been exceptionally quiet the whole time, decided to address the elephant in the room. He looked to Dumbledore for permission to speak.

"Sir, if I may," he said respectfully.

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. Draco stood up, and Hermione, sensing what he was about to do, pressed his hand lightly to show her support. Draco smiled at her, straightened himself, cleared his throat, and began.

"Perhaps many of you are surprised to see me here today. I will not deny that at one time I felt myself destined to follow in my father's footsteps one day. I do not expect everyone in this room to accept the validity of my change of heart just now…"

At this, he let his gaze fall for a moment on Ron and Harry. They did not return his gaze and Draco continued, his eyes darkening with determination.

"However, I do intend to do everything I can to destroy the dark works of Lord Voldemort wherever I find them. And I hope, that one day, anyone who questions my commitment now, will have cause to render a different judgment hereafter."

With that, Draco sat down again; to the nodding head and approving glance of Professor Dumbledore. Hermione squeezed his hand, tears shining in her eyes, while Harry was silently contemplating his wand as he turned it over in his hand. Ron, however, only scrunched further down in his seat, with a highly audible scoffing sound. Hermione turned on him wrathfully, but Professor Dumbledore was quick to stop what everyone in the room knew would soon turn into a royal row otherwise.

"I am sure…" said Dumbledore in a placating tone as he stood up to lean with his fingertips upon the desk, "we all appreciate Mr. Malfoy's sentiments."

He nodded at Draco, who returned the nod.

"But, now I think we should return to our business until such time that I have anymore information for the group. Be assured I will send for you if such a time arrives. In the meanwhile, I am sure I need not remind you to keep all that has been said here quiet. I have spoken to each of you at one time or another in the past two days, so you know your assignments for now. I suggest you perform them with all possible haste."

Professor McGonagall came out from behind the desk and handed each of the four students passes to show their teachers upon their return to class.

"That should allay any difficulties you might have getting into your classrooms without having to field questions," she said crisply.

Professor Dumbledore smiled encouragingly at his rather downcast and worried pupils as they headed to the door.

"Do not worry," he said soothingly. "Just be alert…or as Alastor Moody would say, 'Constant Vigilance!'".

The Professor did such a realistic impersonation of the eccentric ex-Auror, that the whole room broke up. Even Professor Snape cracked a smile.

Next thing they knew, Draco, Hermione, Harry, and Ron found themselves out in front of the revolving staircase once again.

"


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

There was an uncomfortable silence as the four lingered in the corridor, Ron scowling and glaring at Draco, Harry looking alert and ready for action, Draco looking defensive, but refusing to back away from a possible fight, and Hermione looking and feeling guilty. No one wanted to be the first to initiate an exit, each for there own reasons…Ron and Draco for pride's sake, Harry because he was fairly sure he may have to stop another fight…and Hermione because she STILL felt guilty.

Finally, Hermione spoke, her voice plaintive.

"Well, I guess we had better go…" she started, her voice weakly trailing away at sight of Ron's reaction.

Ron was glaring her down for her use of the word "we".

"Time for another snogging session, then!" He said through clenched teeth, his face red with fury. "Or have you bigger plans tonight?" he finished spitefully, staring mercilessly at Hermione.

"Watch it, Weasley!" Draco ground out, his voice dangerously quiet.

With nonchalance he did not feel, Ron turned to face his enemy.

"Really, Malfoy! You ought to get a new line. I seem to remember you warning me off just like that this morning…just before I pounded you so hard you couldn't walk afterwards! Remember!"

In an instant, Draco and Ron were in face-off position, circling each other like sharks about to go into a feeding frenzy. Neither man drew his wand, but Hermione and Harry all ready knew the damage the two could cause one another, even if they only fought physically.

"Don't do this. Not now," Harry said calmly, laying a hand on Ron's arm.

Ron shook him off so hard that he knocked Harry into Hermione, almost landing them both on the flagstone. Hermione righted herself, and turned a furious glare on her best friend.

"Ronald Weasley! You are being absolutely ridiculous!" she shouted.

Harry's eyes widened in alarm and he stepped closer to Hermione.

"Shhhh!" he rasped, gesturing toward Dumbledore's door. "Remember where we are!"

Hermione reddened, nodded at Harry, and then narrowed her eyes at Ron as she stepped up closer to him.

"I think, Ronald," she whispered angrily in his ear, "_You_ would do well to remember where we are, too!

Ron continued to stare down Draco, refusing to even so much as glance at the now furious Hermione.

"You might remember _this _as well," she stomped her foot for emphasis, her hands clenched at her sides. "Draco did nothing to defend himself this morning! Nothing! And he refused to get the attention he needed in the medical wing to keep anyone from finding out about your deplorable behavior! He had the perfect right, and might I say, opportunity to see you expelled, and he didn't take it, you insufferable git! So, if you think you're about to repeat this morning's disgraceful performance, I hope he beats you bloody!"

Hermione stomped her foot again for emphasis, and crossed her arms huffily, as she stared holes into the side of Ron's obstinate face. Ron stood down a very minute fraction, his eyes flickering with sudden doubt.

"You can't mean that, Hermione," he whispered, still eyeing Draco.

Draco, for his part, was watching the changes in Ron's stance and countenance, and trying to gauge his reactions accordingly. He began to relax a little at sight of Ron's uncertainty. If there was no need to fight, Draco was all for the peaceful solution. He just wasn't willing to get the stuffing torn out of him again…not without defending himself in some way.

"Yes I do, Ron," Hermione almost whispered. "It's time you grew up, and if you need someone to beat it into you, then so be it." Her voice was even and sincere.

Harry sighed and shook his head at the obvious effect Hermione's words were having on Ron. He looked as though destroyed. All pretence at starting something with Draco had fallen away. He stood with his head down, his hands held limply at his sides…the perfect picture of dejection.

Hermione softened immediately as she beheld her handiwork. She hadn't meant to hurt Ron, only to stop him in his destructive course. That she had done, but she feared she had gone too far.

"Ron," she said gently. "I think it's time you and I had a talk, don't you?"

Upon hearing this, Draco was instantly in protective mode. Hermione's suggestion seemed to him, ridiculously absurd. After all, Ron had not exactly proven himself stable in the last several hours.

"No," Draco said strongly, taking Hermione's hand possessively in his. "I won't allow it."

Hermione gently lead Draco away from Harry and Ron for a more private word.

"Darling," she said, placating him. "You don't have to worry about me. Look at him," she gestured to the still stunned Ron. "He's not going to hurt _anyone_, much less me. I think I can put all this to rest, once and for all. Please let me try"

Draco still looked unsure, as he let his gaze rest for several seconds on Ron's slumped over figure. Hermione gently put her hand up to his face and turned his eyes to hers.

"Please, Draco. The war is upon us, and this must be settled before we go into battle. You know it must be."

She looked at him pleadingly, tears filling her eyes. Draco stepped closer to Hermione, letting his forehead rest on hers. He felt in an anguish of indecision.

"We will use our common room, and you and Harry can wait in your room. You'll be right there if anything happens. I promise I'll call you if I need you."

Her words came out in a rush. She really wanted this. Draco couldn't miss how important it was to her.

"All right," he said softly, kissing her cheek gently. "But, what about classes?"

"This is important, Draco. I think we can afford to miss one more class." she said matter-of- factly.

Draco nodded slowly, knowing she had made up her mind.

She hugged him close, breathing her thanks before she lead him back to Harry and Ron.

Ron was amazingly subdued and agreed with a solemn nod to Hermione's plan. Harry didn't say so, but he thought it a brilliant idea…except for the part where he must keep watch with Malfoy in his room.

Several minutes later, the foursome slipped one at a time into Draco and Hermione's portrait hole. The mood of the party was still very solemn. Hermione asked if anyone wanted tea, but not surprisingly there were no takers. So, without further adieu, Draco and Harry slipped into Draco's quarters…But, not without several nervous backward glances on Draco's part as they went.

As soon as Draco's door was firmly shut, Hermione offered Ron a seat on the opposite couch from hers. Ron walked slowly over; never lifting his eyes, and fell heavily into the middle of the couch. He looked so hurt and confused that Hermione felt as if her heart would break. She could not speak. Her throat was tight, and she could not make words come out. For several seconds, she sat just trying to contain the well of emotion rising up within her.

Finally, she felt her anger coming back as she thought of Draco's injuries. How could Ron have done such a thing? Why did he not heed her when she told him and Harry that she loved Draco? Her feelings should have mattered to him, even if he didn't understand everything. Why did Ron always have to blow up first and ask questions later?

Now Hermione clenched the hand on her lap. Now she was more than ready to talk.

"Ron…" she started out firmly.

"Why him?" Ron asked so quietly that Hermione couldn't hear him.

Ron still didn't look at her.

"What?" she asked in confusion, ducking her head and trying to catch his eye. "What did you say?"

Ron's eyes shot up to hers, full of pain and unspeakable anger.

"I SAID, 'WHY HIM,' HERMIONE?" he bellowed as he shot out of his seat to face her.

Immediately Draco's door was thrown open and both Draco and Harry poked out their heads, faces full of alarm. Ron did not acknowledge them, but Hermione waved a hand at them, and mouthed, "It's all right". Reluctantly, both men retreated back into Draco's quarters, again closing the door behind them. Hermione turned back to Ron.

"Ron, you've got to calm down," she said in the tone that one uses when talking someone down off a ledge. "Harry and Draco are just in the other room. They are all ready worried about your temper…and I am sure you don't want our talk interrupted, now do you?"

It was a struggle for her to keep her voice from shaking, but she managed it.

But Ron was having none of it. Lowering his voice only a mere fraction, he continued.

"It should have been me! That was how it was always supposed to me! Not Malfoy! Me! You and I were supposed to be planning a future together! Harry was going to marry Ginny, and you and I were to get married! We were to all live together…happily ever after! Don't you get it? Malfoy has no place in it at all! Good gods, Hermione! Malfoy! What the bloody hell are you thinking!

All through this barely rational speech Ron was on his feet pacing like a caged tiger back and forth between his couch and the low table before it. He was gesticulating wildly, his face as red as his hair.

Hermione sat for a moment, absolutely dumbfounded, her mouth slightly open and eyes wide with incredulity. It was now her turn to pop up off her seat.

"Ronald Weasley! What are you saying! Have you lost your mind!" she cried as she rushed toward him, and tried to take both his arms in her hands.

Ron wrenched away from her forcefully, glaring at her as his breath came in harsh pulls.

"DON'T TOUCH ME, YOU TRAITOR!" he shouted at the top of his lungs.

Hermione felt as though he had slapped her. She even put her hand gently to her face. Shaking, she slowly turned around and returned to her seat. It did not occur to her to be amazed that Draco and Harry had not come bursting out upon the scene again.

Ron, for his part, had assumed the dejected position he had been in before he had spoken. He shoved his hands into his pockets.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he said his tone much softer now. "I didn't mean that. I am just so…"

"What, Ron?" Hermione said softly as she lifted her now tear-stained face to him. "Hurt, Ron? Is that what you were going to say?" her voice building strength as she continued.

"Well, let me tell you a little something about hurt, Ronald Weasley!" she said with low and steady tones. "I carried a torch for you for years! Years, I say! Did you ever once give me a hint that you'd noticed? Did you ever give me a sign that I had any right to hope at all? Sometimes I thought so! Oh, but those were the worst times of all, because then you would invariably do something stupid to ruin everything, and we would be fighting again! Remember the Yule Ball, Ronald? Do you?"

A much chastened Ron nodded meekly.

"What about the stunt you pulled with Lavender Brown! Recall that?" she was yelling now.

Ron nodded again.

Hermione let her tears fall freely, as she eyed him quietly for a moment. She let the pain wash over her again. She let herself remember the tears she'd shed into her pillow on many a night when her roommates had been asleep. Her eyes closed momentarily, and she choked out a sob.

"You can never know what you put me through," she whispered condemningly.

Ron was silent, giving Hermione time to pull herself together. She pulled out a handkerchief, and with shaking hands, wiped her eyes and nose.

"No, you can never know…" she trailed off softly.

Letting the hand with the hanky in it fall forgotten to her lap, Hermione turned her face up to Ron, who still stood a little way off looking as though he couldn't decide what to feel in this moment. He said nothing, so Hermione continued.

"So, around the end of our sixth year I began to realize…really realize, that you were never going to speak. Slowly but surely I gave up trying to figure out why. Until at last I came to the conclusion that you just did not care for me. We were meant to be friends and nothing more."

At this point, Hermione's eyes wandered thoughtfully to the inviting fire on the grate. She paused, and Ron, who could think of nothing to say, watched her. He couldn't help but think that she looked like an angel bathed in the firelight. Finally, she spoke again.

"Once I was fully persuaded of that, it didn't take long for me to get over you. I even came to believe that it had all turned out for the best."

Ron winced at these words. They were, he was very much afraid, the expression of his doom. He rushed over to her, and threw himself on the couch next to her, taking both her hands in his.

"But, Hermione, it's not too late!" he cried. "I know I've been an idiot! But I was so afraid! How could I really have believed that you cared for me? You, the smartest witch of your age…the smartest witch in this school!"

He jumped up and began pacing again, the force of his feeling compelling him.

"What did I have to offer you? I'm poor, not too bright, and I am certainly not heroic like Harry!" he paused, running his hand through his ginger hair roughly. "Can't you see how I felt?" he said pleadingly.

He moved toward her again and pulled her up off the couch and into his arms. She did not resist him.

I've always loved you, Hermione, from the time we battled the troll in the girl's bathroom in our first year. Remember?" he said his voice soft and caressing.

He let his hand gently brush a strand of Hermione's hair from her eyes.

"Your hair…" he said absently. "I've always loved your hair."

His eyes were gentle, and in them there was reverence.

"Please, " he whispered, drawing her even nearer. "Please tell me it's not too late."

Slowly he moved in to kiss her, his eyes earnestly pleading. But, Hermione drew away, casting her eyes downward.

"No, Ron. Don't," she murmured.

Ron stumbled back, looking stung.

"I love Draco, and am committed to him," she whispered miserably.

Reaching into the collar of her shirt she pulled a delicate silver chain from within, and held up the beautiful emerald ring Draco had given her only the night before. Ron stared at it as if the ring were a snake.

Hermione moved toward him slowly, her hands outstretched in supplication. But, as she advanced, Ron only moved back, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"Ron, please!" she pleaded. "It was never meant to be between us. I know that now! And you will come to realize it, too one day! Please."

But Ron's face had hardened again. He was not angry, but very, very determined.

"You cannot possibly mean to choose Malfoy over me! He will only hurt and use you, Hermione! Can't you see that?"

"Ron…" Hermione began patiently.

"No!" he said firmly. "I won't hear anymore about your love for the little ferret!"

He ran his hand through his hair again, trying to contain his temper. After a moment, he raised a pointed finger at her, his eyes hardened.

"But I will tell you this...either you turn you back on Draco Malfoy right now… tonight! Or you can consider our friendship over!"

Hermione felt her heart rise up in her throat and her stomach drop to her toes. Her worst fear was coming to pass! Tears sprung to her eyes, and she reached a hand out to Ron, even as she stumbled backwards as though reeling from a blow.

"Don't say that!" she said weakly. "Don't say that ever again!"

But Ron only continued to stare at her unmoved. Hermione felt tears springing to her eyes again. She let her head drop into her hands despairingly and wept.

She knew what she must do. After some moments, she lifted her pale face from her hands; her teary eyes the only signs of the great turbulence in her heart.

"So be it," she said in the tone of a judge pronouncing sentence on the condemned. "I will not leave Draco."

Ron let shock cross his features for only an instant before he drew himself up to his full height and stood regarding her coolly.

"All right," Ron said, his voice hard. "Then just remember, _you_ have chosen. _You_ have done this."

With that, he spun around and stalked across the room, and out the portrait hole without a backward glance.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Hermione felt as though she was in a nightmare as she watched Ron disappear through the portrait hole. Could this really have happened? Had he really declared his love for her? Had he really tried to force her to choose between their friendship and her love for Draco? Yes, he had…and she had followed after her heart and chosen Draco. She had done the right thing, and she knew it. She had done the only thing possible.

But now her heart ached so acutely that she couldn't breathe properly. She could think of nothing else to do, but run after Ron and…and…and say what? She could not promise him she would never see Draco again, and she knew that very promise was all that would suffice him. No, there was nothing further she could do.

At that realization, Hermione drew in a sharp, anguished breath, as though someone had dashed cold water in her face. She felt tears pricking the backs of her eyes again, and she put her hand to her mouth in horror.

Hermione felt veritably choked by despair. It weighed upon her, like a heavy black cloak.

"Save me," she whispered to no one in particular, as her tears fell in rivulets down her cheeks.

At that moment, Draco's door flew open.

And Draco rushed over to her and took her into his arms. Hermione began to cry stormily into his shoulder. She tried to tell him what had happened between great wracking sobs. Then, she felt another hand on her shoulder.

_Harry!_ she thought gratefully. _He's still here!_

Draco led her over to one of the couches, treating her as tenderly as if she were a hurt child.

"Shhhh," he soothed. "Don't talk now…not just now, love. Wait until you are calmer."

She cried for a few minutes more, as Draco smoothed her hair and wiped her tears with his handkerchief. At some point, Hermione realized that Harry was awkwardly patting her shoulder. He, too, was doing his best to comfort her.

Finally, Hermione sat up, took the now sopped handkerchief from Draco, and tried to make herself a little more presentable.

"Oh, here," Harry said in mock disgust as he offered his handkerchief. "You can't use that anymore!" he said with a grin.

Hermione gave him a small smile, took his offering gratefully, and continued her ministrations.

"Did you hear what happened?" she asked as she cast the handkerchief aside and let a hand go tentatively to her hair

"I must look a sight!" she worried suddenly.

"We heard some of it," Draco said tensely. "It was hard not to…and you look fine."

He took her hand gently, and looked at her sympathetically.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," he said sorrowfully.

Hermione knew that he was blaming himself, and she turned to him lovingly.

"Thank you, darling, but it's not your fault," she said with soft conviction. "Do not blame yourself."

Draco looked at her miserably.

"I mean it," she affirmed. "Ron made the choice to break off our relationship. Ron had all the choices in this matter. Neither you nor I are to blame."

Hermione's eyes were blazing with conviction.

"It's true," Harry said in quiet but certain agreement.

Both Draco and Hermione turned to look at him in amazement. His jaw was set, his eyes mirroring Hermione's.

"Do you mean that, Harry?" Hermione asked in an awestruck voice.

Draco leaned in lest he miss one word of this important conversation, his gaze riveted to Harry's face.

"With all my heart!" Harry said strongly. "And I mean to tell Ron so, too!"

Hermione squealed and grabbed Harry up in a bear hug, almost dislodging his glasses from his face in her great joy.

"Oh, Harry!" she cried happily. "Thank you! Thank you, so much!" she said as she pulled him into another tight embrace.

Then her eyes were softly pained again.

"But don't be overly hard on him just now. Give him some time. He is carrying a world of hurt inside," she said, as the memory of his declaration of love for her washed over her again.

Harry nodded curtly.

"I'll keep it in mind," he whispered.

Some time later, Hermione lay in Draco's bed, her head pounding painfully from her extreme emotional upset. Draco sat next to her holding a cup of tea he had made for her, which she was not drinking. Harry had gone to make excuses for Hermione and Draco's continued absence from the day's classes. It was kind of him, and Hermione had thanked him, but truthfully she didn't really care if she got into trouble for missing the day. She did care about Draco's missing it, though, and was presently trying to talk him into going on without her. He remained obdurate.

"You can't be serious!" he said almost angrily. "I can't leave you in this state!"

Hermione shook her aching head, but said nothing.

"Besides, it gets me out of that Arithmancy exam, doesn't it?" he said with a grin.

Hermione couldn't help but smile a little.

"Honestly Draco, I'm fine" she insisted. "I'll probably just fall asleep in a bit anyway."

"Good," Draco said playfully, as he removed his shoes and cloak and climbed into bed with her. "I'll just nap with you."

He took her in his arms, and they sunk down into the pillows. Hermione sighed contentedly. She knew she should continue arguing with Draco…keep trying to talk sense to him, but she found she didn't have the strength for it. She could not help but think how lovely it would be to just fall asleep in his arms again.

"We can always catch up on our classes," she yawned, trying to justify their neglect of their studies.

"Mmm Hmm…" Draco agreed lazily. "And I am still a little sore from this morning's fiasco."

"Of course," Hermione said softly as her eyes dropped closed.

Then there was silence.

When the beleaguered couple awoke a couple of hours later, it was to insistent pounding on their portrait hole entrance. Hermione shot up, her own heart pounding in her chest and turned her bleary eyes to the clock on Draco's bedside table.

"Good gods!" she exclaimed. "Draco, wake up! Someone's knocking…or beating the door down rather!" she finished, her tone chagrined.

Draco popped up, his hair all tousled. The pounding continued.

"Who on earth could that be?" he asked, clearly puzzled.

Hermione jumped up and skittered to the door.

"I don't know," she turned to say, fear in her eyes. "But, whoever it is doesn't need to find me in your bed, of that I am sure!"

And she ran out exclaiming, "I'll be in my room if you need me!"

Draco, still feeling sore, got out of the bed as fast as he could and stepped out into the common room, where the pounding sounded like canon volley.

"All right, All right!" he shouted irritably. "Keep your trousers on!"

In his irritation, Draco's face was a picture of his old sneering self as he murmured the password and the door swung open to reveal…a rather harassed looking Professor Snape!

Draco blanched and began stammering.

"Professor Snape! Forgive me; I didn't know it was you…"

"That, Mr. Malfoy, is obvious," Snape answered imperiously.

Draco moved aside and gestured Snape inside deprecatingly.

"Professor, if this is about Hermione and me not being in class the rest of the afternoon, I can explain…" Draco began nervously.

Snape leveled him with his gaze.

"I am sure I would be very interested in your explanations were it not for the infinitely more important news I have come to impart to you," he said with cold sarcasm.

Draco eyed Snape suspiciously, but said nothing. At that moment Hermione poked her head out of her door curiously.

"Ah, Miss Granger! I am sure my news will interest you as well. Please, join us!" the Potions Master said with mock politeness.

Hermione did so at once, not attempting to hide the wonderment in her eyes.

"The fact is, Mr. Malfoy, I have been summoned by the Dark Lord, and he has asked that I bring you with me," Snape said with exaggerated carelessness.

Only his eyes belied his very real concern. Draco and Hermione both looked astonished.

"But, Sir," Draco said, his voice slightly alarmed. "What could the Dark Lord want with me now?"

Snape regarded Draco coolly for a moment

"Much, I am afraid," he said in low tones. "It seems that he wishes to affect a touching reunion between you and your father. He has also decided to favor Lucius by bringing you into the fold a little early."

Snape paused for effect, eyeing both Draco and Hermione, who looked nonplussed at this news.

"I know what you are thinking, but it is of no consequence to the Dark Lord, apparently. For, though you are not of age and will not be for another week and a half, he has decided to make an exception to the rule governing such things…for your father's sake."

Draco's eyes narrowed at the mention of his father, and Hermione gasped, clasping a hand over her mouth.

"That's not all," Snape continued, barely noting the reactions of his audience. "Your father has requested that you be allowed to take the Dark Mark early."

"No!" Hermione cried.

"I am afraid so, Ms.Granger," Snape said, his eye falling on her critically. "And the Dark Lord has agreed, in honor of Lucius' many years of faithful service," he sneered, making it clear what he thought of the whole idea.

Draco stared evenly at Snape, quickly arranging his features into an unreadable mask.

"When do we go, Professor?" he asked calmly.

"What!" Hermione all but bellowed. "Draco you can't mean to follow through with this! You've had no training, no preparation! Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape still have much to teach you!"

Professor Snape raised an eyebrow at Hermione's obviously protective display of affection for his favorite Slytherin student, but said nothing.

Draco took Hermione's hands in his and held her gaze for a long moment.

"Hermione, you know I've no choice but to go. I cannot appear hesitant in any way, or I will raise suspicion."

Snape broke in.

"Mr. Malfoy is right, Ms. Granger. He must go. Professor Dumbledore, and I will spend the rest of the afternoon and evening preparing him for the event," he said, not unkindly. "And, of course, you are welcome to attend the training…if you wish."

Snape cleared his throat to cover his embarrassment before continuing.

"Something tells me you are the one who can best give Mr. Malfoy the, uh…moral support...he'll need to face this trial."

Snape looked away at this point, trying to hide his great discomfort. It was obvious he had just figured out the nature of Draco and Hermione's true relationship and was having a difficult time maintaining his usual disinterested façade in the face of such a shock.

"Professor Snape, I have one concern," began Draco.

"Only one?" Professor Snape asked with grim humor, provoking an equally grim smile from Draco before he continued.

"I haven't had the chance to speak to Crabbe and Goyle about this morning. They were, I am sure, somewhat confused by my taking up for Hermione in your class. I am sure they are wondering…You don't think they have owled their fathers that I have turned traitor, do you, Sir?"

"Well, Mr. Malfoy, I see you are all ready thinking like a spy," Snape said with grudging approval. "But do not worry. I all ready thought of that and took the liberty of speaking to them myself. I told them you were only building a relationship with Ms. Granger as a service to the Dark Lord. I am certain I convinced them," he finished.

"Thank you, Sir," Draco said evenly, trying to hide the profound relief he felt.

Snape turned to the portrait hole and made ready to leave.

"If I have now sufficiently answered all of your questions," he said eyeing both Draco and Hermione, "I will depart. Professor Dumbledore and I will expect you both in his office in a quarter of an hour."

Seeing that Draco and Hermione had nothing further to say, he gracefully slipped into the portrait hole and disappeared in a flurry of black robes.

Draco and Hermione were left staring at one another in disbelief. In just a few short hours Draco would take the Mark, and their lives would change forever. It remained to be seen whether this cataclysmic event would be to the good or destruction of them and everyone else involved.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Draco and Hermione arrived on time at the Head Master's office for their appointment with Professors Dumbledore and Snape, and the work began in earnest to prepare Draco for the Marking ceremony. The lessons were mostly on Occlumency, the art of hiding one's true thoughts and emotions, while throwing up false images to fool the one trying to intrude on the mind.

Professor Snape was particularly nervous about Draco's training, as he had, of course been to many of these meetings. He knew by experience and by example what to expect. And Draco and Hermione, being highly perceptive, could tell by the tightness of the good Potions Master's mouth when he spoke of it that it was not something to take lightly.

"I neglected to mention when I was with you last that we are expected at the meeting at 10 p.m. That only leaves us around 4 and a half hours to make ready," Snape said darkly.

His manner thereafter only reinforced to Draco that the shortness of time was weighing heavily on the mind of his Head of House. His speech was sharper, and his movements more clipped and hurried than Draco and Hermione had ever seen them before. Snape acted as though he was trying to get as much training crammed into Draco's being as he possibly could.

Dumbledore, on the other hand, comported himself in complete serenity. He smiled gently as he corrected Draco in his Occlumency lessons.

"Now these are just the basics, my boy," he said encouragingly, peering at him over his glasses rims kindly. "But, that is all you will need for this encounter. We will continue your lessons after your return."

Draco appreciated Dumbledore's gentle manner very much, as it made him feel less nervous.

But, Snape continued to look grave. He even seemed impatient with the Head Master. He seemed to take it personally that Dumbledore was remaining so calm in such a dark and dangerous time.

As Snape insisted that almost every moment of their time be spent in productive learning, Draco was not even given a proper break for tea. House Elves appeared at 7 p.m. with a bit of supper, but the Potions Master made Draco keep studying even as he ate.

The work was hard, but Draco was almost as driven as Snape to command as much of the material as he could. He knew his life could literally depend on his ability to shroud his mind from the deeply probing eyes of the Dark Lord.

"You must remember, Mr. Malfoy," Snape intoned several times throughout the evening. "He will be looking for any evidence that you are not trustworthy. He always starts out not trusting those he gathers around him, and leaves it to them to prove themselves to him."

Throughout the process, Hermione felt torn. One the one hand, she didn't like Snape's heavy-handedness, but on the other she knew he was only trying to give Draco as much protection he could in a short amount of time. She wanted Draco to know what to do during this very dangerous ceremony, but she could see Draco growing weary. She knew he was still not fully recovered from Ron's less than tender treatment of him that morning. Her concern was that all the knowledge in Occlumency he could possess would not serve him if he was too exhausted to put it to use.

At around 8:30 p.m. Professor Dumbledore halted the lessons, much to Professor Snape's chagrin. Apparently, the Head Master also felt Draco needed time to rest both mind and body before his ordeal.

"I will leave you with this, Draco," Professor Dumbledore said with his gentle smile. "The fates saw fit to set the time of your trial for tonight long before this. Do not question it, but trust that it is all ordained in the stars, and therefore, whatever happens is also ordained. Do not fear… all is as it should be."

Draco nodded solemnly, giving Dumbledore's words the weight they deserved.

Hermione, for her part, watched Dumbledore speaking to Draco with eyes wide.

_So this is why Professor Dumbledore is always so calm and ready to face whatever comes_,she thought. _He believes in no coincidences. He knows that only what is meant to happen will happen. _

Almost magically, the knot that had taken up residence in Hermione's stomach began to unravel itself. She felt her peace return to her like a refreshing breeze sweeping in to caress her spirit. She had learned something tonight…something important…something that went beyond making this hard spot in the road easier. In her heart she recognized that Professor Dumbledore's words were not just wise. These were words to live by, in every situation, all the time. These were eternal words, meant for an eternal perspective. And, in that moment, when everything around her seemed craziness and chaos, she snatched them up and tucked them away in her heart with the fervor of a starving man suddenly set before a rich banquet.

She was thinking on these things, when Professor Snape's cold voice broke into her thoughts intrusively, almost jarringly.

"Since Professor Dumbledore believes you need to rest, Mr. Malfoy," he sneered. "You had best go and do it, but I will be by to pick you up at 9:30 p.m. sharp, as we must journey off the school grounds before we can disapparate to the meeting place. So, be ready."

And without further speech, Snape swept hastily away.

Professor Dumbledore shook Draco's hand, and smiled beneficently.

"All the best to you tonight, Draco," he said sincerely. "I will see you shortly after you return."

Draco nodded.

"Thank you, Sir," he said in somber tones.

And his whole heart of appreciation was in the words.

Hermione nodded to the Professor with a gentle smile, and let Draco lead her out of the office by her hand.

Hermione looked slyly at Draco as they stepped onto the revolving stairway.

"Do I detect a look of profound respect for Professor Dumbledore on the face of a certain well-known Slytherin Prince's face?" she chortled as she squeezed his hand playfully.

"Whatever do you mean?" he asked loftily, amending his facial features to reflect his old arrogance.

But, Hermione was not to be put off.

"Oh, come on, Draco," she said teasingly. "I saw you back there. I think you actually like Dumbledore now."

She watched with pleasure, as he wriggled uncomfortably under her scrutiny.

"Come on. Admit it. You respect him, don't you?" she pressed.

Suddenly Draco turned to Hermione with a mock evil grin, as they both stepped off the staircase and on to firm ground.

"All right," he said, looking at her, playful treachery in his eyes.

Hermione's eyes narrowed distrustfully.

"I sense the tables are about to turn…and not to my advantage," she said, pretending to be concerned.

Draco advanced on her menacingly, doing a very good impression of a villain in an old silent movie. He even made like he was stroking an imaginary mustache between the thumb and forefinger of one hand.

"Oh, yes my dear!" he said in low evil tones. "You are very perceptive."

And he grabbed her in both arms, moving as quick as lightning. Hermione shrieked with surprise, but Draco ignored her.

"I will be more than happy to admit to respecting Dumbledore," he said, pulling her very near to him. "But, that admission comes with a price, my dear! Oh, yes!"

Hermione was giggling uncontrollably now at Draco's rather dubious acting abilities.

"What price?" she gasped out between giggles.

Draco bent her back in his tightly constricting arms, and lifted one eyebrow cynically at her.

"I am very much afraid you will have to submit to…this!" he said, suddenly turning playful.

And he began to tickle her mercilessly, as Hermione shrieked with unabated laughter, and started fighting him tooth and nail.

Draco was strong, but Hermione proved to be very slippery. It wasn't long before she had extricated herself from his vice grip and was running as fast as her legs would carry her through the corridor and toward their rooms, laughing at him derisively the whole way.

Not to be outdone by a girl, Draco took off like a shot, determined he would catch her. But, being as how he had just endured a grueling training session and was still nursing his wounds from that morning, he couldn't quite make it. Next thing he knew he was watching Hermione dive into their portrait hole with one last taunting laugh. He put on a last burst of speed and came in behind her by only mere seconds, colliding with her in a tangle of arms and legs. Now, they were both laughing as they sat up awkwardly.

But the mood had changed between them somehow. Suddenly, the moment had become very quiet and reverent. Draco pulled Hermione onto his lap, so that she was straddling him. They were both panting slightly from the exertion of their chase, but there was no more laughing.

They were both very aware of their close proximity. Now their breathing was labored for a reason wholly unrelated to physical exercise. Draco held her as near to himself as he could. He was almost clutching her, as if she would slip away from him.

"Hermione," he murmured into her ear lovingly, as he gently stroked her long chestnut mane.

She pulled back slightly, letting her forehead rest on his, her eyes closed against the sudden rush of desire rushing through her. Draco's fingers gently traced her jaw line, and his eyes sought hers in the dimness of the distant firelight.

"Look at me," he pleaded gently.

He might as well have said, "Know me."

For, as Hermione gazed into his eyes, she was aware that he was trying to communicate to her a willingness that she should see into his very heart. She saw no pretension, no shadows where hidden bits of his soul might reside undiscovered. He was open and laid bare before her.

"Draco!" she whispered feeling weak with awe.

But, he did not look away. He held her gaze without fear, and that relentlessly honest expression of his utmost trust in her was more eloquent than anything he could have said to her now or ever in their future. This was a seminal moment in their love story, and both of them knew it beyond a shadow of a doubt. Come what may, no one and nothing could ever take this moment of pure connection away from them.

Draco kissed her then, gently, reverently, his hand cupping her chin. And she let herself melt into him, endeavoring to think only of the here and now. The outside world could wait for a few moments more.

"I love you, Draco," Hermione breathed, as they pulled apart slightly.

He crushed her to him desperately. She wanted to ask him not to go through with the Marking ceremony, but she knew it would be selfish of her to do so. This was something he had to do, and she must not make the trial harder by attempting at the eleventh hour to stop him. She had promised to help and support him, and that she would do if it killed her.

Once more he pulled back and looked into her eyes.

"I love you, too, Hermione Granger," he replied fiercely. "And no matter what happens tonight…"

"Don't say it, Draco!" she cried desperately. "Nothing is going to happen to prevent you coming back to me!"

She clutched him to her, tears falling on his shoulder. Her crying was noiseless. Somehow she felt if she really cried, it meant she wasn't believing for his safe return.

"No, nothing!" Draco agreed determinedly. "Nothing!"

They held each other for a moment more, and then…

"I've got to get ready, love."

Hermione nodded into his shoulder, and they pulled apart.

"Come on," she said in her old matter-of-fact manner. "I'll help you."

Draco went to change, and wash up, while Hermione brewed them both a cup of tea.

When Snape arrived for Draco, he found him just finishing his cupper. The Professor did not say so, but he was amazed at the calm determination he sensed coming from both Draco and Hermione.

"Are you ready, Mr. Malfoy?" he asked tensely.

"Yes, Sir."

Professor Snape looked Draco over with an appraising eye for a moment.

"Then say your… goodbyes… and we'll be off," he said waving a hand carelessly at Hermione, and turning his back to give them privacy.

Draco smiled at Snape's discomfort and took an equally amused Hermione in his arms and kissed her, "goodbye".

"I'll see you soon, love," he said with an airiness he didn't feel.

"I'll be here," she said, doing a far worse job at appearing carefree than Draco had done.

For tears had sprung to her eyes unbidden, and she could only manage a watery smile.

But, it was the very bravest watery smile Draco had ever seen.

And it gave him the courage he so desperately needed to leave her… to go find and meet his destiny head on.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Professor Snape, moving with incredible stealth, wordlessly led Draco through a labyrinth of corridors and secret passageways to one of many hidden doors in an obscure part of the castle. In truth, by the time they arrived at this particular door, Draco felt completely lost, and wondered at his guide's ability to remember such a long and twisted path without once losing his way.

Now, Professor Snape, admonishing Draco to step a short distance away, turned his back on him and tapped the door with his wand, murmuring a spell under his breath. Draco heard several clicking sounds, and a soft "whoosh" as Snape threw open the door to reveal the velvety black night, lit only by a few lively stars and a slender but bravely shining crescent moon. There was not one cloud in the sky.

Professor Snape turned to Draco and motioned him through the door.

Upon stepping out onto the grounds, Draco noticed that there was more light coming from that sliver of a moon than he had first supposed. There was a gentle, cool breeze playfully ruffling the silvery grass. He found himself pausing for a moment to breathe deeply of its freshness. It felt good on his hot face after the long, hurried trek through the castle.

Snape eyed him critically.

"Come, Draco," he said with a hint of impatience. "It won't do to keep the Dark Lord waiting. You are supposed to be all in eagerness to be in his presence."

Snape couldn't keep a smirk off his face, Draco noted. He also noted that the Professor had, for the first time, called him by his first name. He pondered this for a moment, as he worked to keep up the pace. Draco had not known his head of house could move like this.

The grounds were quiet, with not a soul stirring but the two black clad figures bent on reaching the edge of the Black Forest as quickly as possible.

High above them, positioned at a wide mullioned window in the darkness of one of the castle's corridors stood three figures. They were gauging the progress of the travelers with a great deal of interest. A grim-faced Harry stood near to an earnestly watching Hermione with his arm protectively about her shoulder. Behind them both stood Professor Dumbledore, his blue eyes sparkling in the moonlight. It was he who had summoned Harry to comfort Hermione. It was also he who had suggested a trip to this very window.

"They are moving at a great pace," Dumbledore observed in low tones.

His companions only nodded, not once removing their eyes from the scene until, with a last flash of their cloaks, Draco and Professor Snape plunged into the deep, sinister darkness of the Black Forest.

"Lumos," both Draco and Snape whispered.

With wands held high to illuminate as much of the path before them as possible, the two began their trek in earnest.

"We must travel at least 10 minutes more to get beyond the school grounds," Snape said very quietly as he moved forward into the darkest dark Draco had ever seen.

He noted with some irritation that the Professor was in no way showing signs of tiring; the man wasn't even breathing hard. Draco, on the other hand wanted to ask for a short breather, but would have rather died before admitting he wasn't up to the task.

"Great," he ground out.

Because of the darkness, Draco didn't see the wry smile that crossed the usually dour face of the Potions Master. He would have wanted to sink into his shoes if he'd known that the perceptive Professor understood and derived great pleasure from his dilemma.

"It won't be too long now," Professor Snape said in a mock solicitous tone.

"I'm fine, Sir," Draco growled.

The two continued into the forest. Draco could feel it resisting them. He knew by instinct that there were creatures all around them watching their progress. He felt the forest fighting him. Not just the think undergrowth that barred his way, scratched his body, and caught at his hair. There was evil in this place, and it seemed to be toying with him…waiting for just the right time to pounce.

There was good here, too. The Watchers of the Stars…the Interpreters…The Prophets. Yes, the Centaurs were roaming somewhere nearby. He could feel their kind and wise presence, and he let that presence quell his fear.

Abruptly, Snape stopped.

"We've gone far enough," he said in clipped tones. "Grab my arm, I will disapparate us both."

Draco grabbed his arm, his heart pounding with sudden apprehension.

The time had come.

Hermione and Harry had been sitting on the couches for half an hour drinking tea, talking, but not really communicating. Harry had been politely interested in the conversation, but Hermione could see he had something on his mind. She was so nervous that she had no patience with this charade she and Harry were playing out.

"Harry, what _is _it?" she finally said, a touch of exasperation in her voice.

Harry looked mildly shocked.

"What do you mean?" he asked quietly.

"I _mean_," she emphasized, "there is obviously something bothering you, so spit it out!"

Harry couldn't help but smile at Hermione's irritated attitude. But, next moment he was sober.

"I don't think this is the time, Hermione," he said softly. "Look at all you're going through just now…"

His voice trailed off as Hermione got off her couch and crossed to his softly. She sat down and took up her best friend's hands, understanding in her eyes.

"Harry," she began. "You are my best friend, and you have been wonderful these last few days. I mean you have had to process a lot lately…Draco and I falling in love, Ron's nervous breakdown, and now you are here giving me comfort through yet another trial with Draco, even though you are dubious about his place in my life."

She reached up and gently brushed a swatch of his unruly hair out of his eyes.

"And I am sure you have had to deal with Ron, today, too," she said quietly.

Harry heaved a sigh, looking relieved.

"That's the thing," he stood up agitatedly. "I have _tried _to help Ron, but he won't let me! The stubborn git!"

Harry was pacing now, his face displaying half anger and half anguish.

"I've tried everything in talking to him…everything!" Harry cried, looking to Hermione for some sort of confirmation.

She nodded encouragingly.

"I've tried sympathizing, behaving matter-of-factly…I even tried pulling the, 'you know there's a war on, and we really don't have time for this,' ploy. But, he just won't listen!"

Hermione felt her heart drop at Harry's words. She knew Ron had chosen his own path, and she could do nothing to stop him, but her old nemesis, guilt began to creep up on her again. She felt tears of remorse starting, as she thought about Ron's face when she'd insisted that she loved Draco and wouldn't leave him.

"And now, he won't speak to me because I'm still speaking to you!"

Harry took a deep breath and shook his head disbelievingly.

"What?!" Hermione bellowed as she jumped up out of her seat, and rushed over to him.

Harry jumped at her sudden explosive reaction.

"That's what I didn't want to have to tell you tonight, Hermione, but you insisted. So, there it is," he said miserably.

"Why?" she asked in a small voice, feeling very afraid of the answer.

Harry looked at her worriedly, and then blew out another big breath.

"Because, he insisted that I stop my friendship with you."

Hermione gasped.

"When I refused, he said I was being disloyal," Harry continued, utter weariness in his eyes.

"We got into a big row, and he told me I was a traitor, and he was cutting off our friendship."

Hermione paled. She was hard-pressed not to think she had caused this. The pressure inside her was tremendous. For about the one hundredth time her mind searched frantically for an answer, but, again found none.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," she whispered consolingly as she made to take him into her arms.

He let her, resting his head on her shoulder.

"Don't you go anywhere," he said after a minute, his voice sullen and forlorn.

"Your friendship is all I have left."

"Ready?" Snape asked hurriedly, as he prepared to disapparate both he and Draco.

But, it was more of a warning to be heeded, then a question that required an answer. For, in the next moment, Draco felt the sensation of his insides being squeezed almost unbearably. He felt as though someone were trying to pull him off of Snape's arm, as they spun around and centrifugal force attempted to work its will. Then, he felt his feet land on solid ground, and the terrific pressure left as suddenly as it had come. Again, Draco found himself panting from strain.

Looking around him as he recovered, he realized he and Snape were standing in a huge clearing in yet another forest. Or, perhaps they were still in the Black Forest. He was about to ask where they were when he felt a hand laid heavily on his shoulder.

"Are you ready?" he heard a slightly muffled voice ask.

Draco turned to address the one touching him and found himself face to face with a Death Eater. Startling, he backed away with a gasp. The Wizard behind the mask only continued to advance toward him.

"It's only me," Professor Snape said, making his disgust obvious. "Stop looking so scared. Remember where you are!"

Draco recovered himself quickly, and began looking casually around. The light was brighter here than under the thick canopy of the Black Forest, and for that he was grateful. He could see Death Eaters milling about everywhere. Every so often he could hear the familiar popping sound that heralded yet another arrival by Apparation. It looked as though there were literally one hundred dark wizards in attendance all ready. The clearing was beginning to look like a boiling, writhing mass of black. For some reason, it turned his stomach.

"Draco," came a smooth, cultured voice from behind him.

It was his father, Lucius Malfoy, Death Eater Extraordinaire…and one of the Dark Lord's right hand men.

Draco turned slowly to him. He looked almost coldly regal in his Death Eater robes, his mask pulled back to reveal his magnificent crown of long white blond hair. He was thinner, and more worn in the face, presumably from the stresses of his stay in Azkaban. But, the same cruel arrogance was still on full display…the same presumption that he was better than everyone else around him.

"Father," Draco said in respectful tones.

He forced himself to smile and clasp the hand Lucius offered him with alacrity.

"My son," Lucius said proudly. "I am very glad to see you here. Tonight all the work we have done together to prepare you for this moment will have its culmination." he waved a graceful hand around him. "Tonight we will stand side by side in the service of the Dark Lord!" his eyes gleamed unnaturally as he went on, his face more animated than Draco had ever seen it.

"Lucius and Draco Malfoy, working together for the noblest of all causes…the purifying of all Wizarding kind!" he turned slowly and let his ecstatic gaze fall once more on Draco, who was doing his best to mirror his father's enthusiasm in his own countenance.

Lucius grasped his son's arms, and eyed him appraisingly for a moment, then with a ghastly smile continued.

"Ah! I assure you, my son. We will do great things together!" he said imperiously. "Very great things! The Dark Lord has great and glorious plans for you."

Draco felt his stomach drop, even as he nodded solemnly and smiled.

"Come," Lucius murmured, taking Draco's arm and leading him.

Before Draco knew where they were going he saw that the other Death Eaters were lining themselves up in double block formation. An aisle of sorts was forming before Lucius, Draco, and Snape as they advanced to what looked like the front of the gathering. Draco's eye fell on a large silver-frame throne, draped in fine black velvet. On either side of the throne sat two tall, round topped side tables, also festooned in black. On them were two small, silver basins, emanating from which were wisps of steam, and an almost merry bubbling sound, as though the contents were in a gentle, rolling boil. Draco smelled an almost sickly sweet scent on the air. He wondered briefly if the odor came from the silver bowls. But, his thoughts were interrupted by his father's coldly excited voice.

"He is here!" his father whispered almost frantically. "Draco, behold your Lord and Master!"

Lucius raised his hand and directed his son's attention to the throne, reverently. A tall, thin, graceful figure stepped out from behind the throne. His movements were so fluid they reminded Draco of the slithering of the snakes in the back garden at the Malfoy Manor. He successfully suppressed a shiver at the sight.

The figure was dressed completely in black robes, but the material of his raiment was so light that pale skin could be seen through it. The robes moved about in the light breeze, seemingly of their own volition, thus creating the illusion that they lived and breathed all of themselves.

Draco noted that the creature before him was hairless, its features snakelike, right down to its glowing, red eyes. Where there should have been a nose, there were only two tiny slits. These features, each on their own were simply ghastly. But, as Draco took the face in as a whole, he thought he had never seen anything so terrifyingly abhorrent in his life. With difficulty, he kept his wits about him, and kept his gaze level, and his face impassive.

As the Dark Lord took to his throne the crowd of murmuring Death Eaters quieted down almost immediately. In the silence that followed, Voldemort began scanning the crowd of his followers very slowly. Draco felt Snape's hand fall heavily upon his shoulder and squeeze just slightly. It was the Professor's signal that Draco must start guarding his thoughts. Thankfully, the training he had been given earlier with Professors Dumbledore and Snape began to kick in automatically. Keeping his eyes steadily on Voldemort, he began throwing up phrases and images he knew would be pleasing to the villain before him.

_O, great Lord, _he began forcing from his mind, _how wonderful it is to be in your presence! I have waited all my life for this moment. I will serve you forever!_

Then, he put forth a picture of himself bowing before Lord Voldemort on his throne. He threw in another image of him taking Voldemort's pale hand and kissing the cracked onyx and silver ring circling his long, claw like finger.

Soon, Voldemort's eyes were upon him. Draco gave a slight nod of due deference and lowered his eyes, awaiting the Dark Lord's command.

He did not have to wait long.

"Draco Malfoy," came the cold rasping voice.

Draco looked up to see Voldemort's long, pale, hand reaching gracefully out to him, the loose sleeve of his flowing robes swirling gently around his astonishingly sinewy arm.

"Come to me!"


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Draco felt his skin crinkle up in goose flesh at the Dark Lord's summons. He lifted his eyes to the snake-like countenance and stepped purposefully toward him. He was careful to continue emitting respectful and almost worshipful thoughts for Lord Voldemort to read at will.

When he was only a few feet before the Dark Lord, he inclined his head in a bow and let his eyes drop once again. For some time Voldemort said nothing. Then…

"You may behold me," he rasped as though bestowing a great gift on a favorite protégé.

Draco again raised his eyes to behold the very visage of evil before him. He was so close now that he could hear Voldemort breathing…see the vertical snake-like slits in the glittering red eyes. He felt revulsion creep up on him. This was a defining moment. If ever his Occlumency lessons were going to save him, it would be now.

"My Lord," Draco said deprecatingly.

At this, Voldemort shifted forward slightly on his throne. The slitted eyes regarded him, deeply probing, as though he was trying to discern into Draco's very soul. Draco worked to remain calm, and continued to create pleasing images, never removing his eyes from those of Voldemort. The Dark Lord's breathing caught in his throat, as he furrowed his brow with seeming concentration. Then, slowly, what could only be described as a look of complete satisfaction transformed his features. He smiled widely, and chuckled to himself. Draco remained still, keeping his guard up. The Dark Lord sat back, resting his hands on the arms of his throne, with regal bearing.

"Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy, why have you come into my presence?" he said in a coldly officious tone.

Snape had schooled him in the proper response to this, the Dark Lord's traditional first question of any aspiring new recruit to his ranks.

"To offer my Lord my humble services, such as they are," Draco replied respectfully, with another slight bow.

"Will you do all that I ask of you, no matter the cost to you…even if following my command should result in your death?"

Voldemort's gaze was intense again. He seemed determined to detect the slightest disloyalty.

Draco put on a look of almost fanatical devotion. He stared Lord Voldemort directly in his eyes.

"It will be my greatest honor to die in your service, my Lord." he replied almost worshipfully

But, he did not bow as he made this statement. He wanted the Dark Lord to see the look in his eyes. And once again the self-proclaimed Lord seemed satisfied.

The official dialogue of the ceremony was over for now. But, Draco did not relax. He was looking for a lead-in to tell Lord Voldemort of his "plans" involving Hermione and Harry Potter. He did not have to wait long.

"I understand," Voldemort said with a wave of his hand to someone off to his right, "that you have all ready been at work on my behalf."

That someone scurried forward and bowing deeply, handed Voldemort an ornate silver goblet, from which he sipped languorously, while still keeping his eyes on Draco. Draco recognized the goblet bearer as Peter Pettigrew.

Voldemort's tone was now less formal, but it was still cold and guarded. He was not asking a question; though it was clear he wanted an answer. He was, in greater part, letting Draco know that he had been watching him through his many known and unknown tactics…More mind games.

Draco continued to play the game, making like he was gratified that the Dark Lord had taken notice of his activities.

"Yes, my Lord," he said with a sober smile. "I have been working on developing a relationship with Hermione Granger, one of Harry Potter's closest friends and confidants."

"I know who Ms. Granger is," the Dark Lord said with obvious displeasure.

Draco could not tell if Voldemort was displeased because he thought Draco was telling him his business, or because he hated Hermione so very much. He decided to thoroughly cover his bases.

"Of course, my Lord. Forgive me, I did not mean to imply…"

"Yes! Yes!" Lord Voldemort rasped, with a dismissive wave of his hand, his face relaxing again. "But, I wish to hear your plans, Draco…Something about getting to Harry Potter through Ms. Granger?"

Draco pretended to glow with pleasure at the Dark Lord's interest.

"Yes, my Lord. It is my plan to pretend to turn from my "dark ways" to gain Granger's full confidence," he expounded gleefully. "Eventually, I hope to win a chance to get close to Potter."

Draco made sure to spit out Harry's name venomously.

"Perhaps I will eventually get to Dumbledore…"

"Now, now Draco!" the Dark Lord intoned, as though talking to an overeager child. "You get ahead of yourself!"

But, Draco could see the cruel red eyes glitter. He had captured Voldemort's imagination. He spoke no more, but waited on the Dark Lord's pleasure.

"Yes…" Voldemort almost hissed, as he ruminated on the possibilities before him.

A long hand reached up and stroked his chin thoughtfully. The evil in his eyes had not been so undisguised during Draco's interview with him as it was now. Draco fought to keep up the façade of devoted servant to this repulsively depraved creature. He threw up images in contradiction to his true feelings at a fast and furious pace.

Then the Dark Lord broke from his reverie.

"Lucius," he said with obvious pleasure.

Lucius swept up beside Draco, and Voldemort bestowed on him a seemingly beneficent gaze.

"Yes, my Lord," he said reverently, affecting a courtly bow.

"Your son is a credit to you. You are to be commended for bringing him into our little fold," he said, waving Lucius away again.

"Thank you, my Lord," Lucius replied, his eyes shining as he backed away with another bow.

Lord Voldemort pulled himself up to a surprising height in his throne. His countenance hardened, and his eyes became terrible as he leveled Draco with them.

"I am intrigued by your little experiment Draco," he said sternly. "So, I will let you continue with it…for now," he tagged on menacingly. "But, I shall expect regular reports on your progress," he said leaning forward and lifting an admonitory finger at Draco. "And I will expect you to work closely with Severus Snape."

Voldemort appeared to think a moment, an evil grin pulling at his features.

"Yes…I think you will do quite well with the help of my faithful servant, Severus," he whispered, as if to himself.

Then he motioned to Snape, who came forward immediately.

"You will, I trust, be very sure to guide Draco with the utmost of care?" he directed at Snape.

"Yes, my Lord, with pleasure," Snape answered smoothly.

Snape's eyes glittered malevolently. So much so, that if Draco had not known better he would have been convinced that Snape's loyalties lay squarely in the Dark Lord's camp.

Voldemort waved Severus Snape away, and then locked eyes with Draco again.

"I hope you realize, _young man,_ what a singular opportunity I am giving you," he stared at Draco for a moment as if to give his words more emphasis.

Draco made to answer, but Lord Voldemort lifted his hand again to silence him.

"You will, of course, be handsomely rewarded should you procure the results I am looking to see," he said, almost nonchalantly.

Draco nodded slowly.

"But, if you fail…" Voldemort continued in a conversational tone.

Then, he leaned forward, his eyes blazing, and his movements smooth and calculated.

"You will leave me no choice, but to…" he paused for emphasis, "_punish_ you for your insolence in asking for an assignment you were unable to carry out." He finished in a voice so cold, so frightening, that Draco wanted to run as far and as fast as he could.

He held his ground, still nodding slowly, as if in full agreement with the Dark Lord's judgment.

"I will not fail you, my Lord," Draco said, fighting to keep his voice even.

The Dark Lord sat back again.

"Good," he said, as if he hadn't just threatened Draco with all but death itself.

"Now that we understand each other, I believe we should make it all official."

He gave Draco another horrific smile.

Then, he turned to Peter Pettigrew, a.k.a. Wormtail, who still stood off to the right, watching the scene with undisguised morbid curiosity…his eyes darting about, his mouth twisted into a malicious grin.

"Wormtail, I believe you will be assisting me in administering the Mark to young Draco, here," Voldemort said, eyeing his servant as though he were dirt under his shoe.

Wormtail moved as fast as his fat, little legs could carry him, as he continually ducked his head up and down, in what he obviously thought was proper and pleasing subservience. The display only caused the Dark Lord to sneer at him all the more.

"Stop bobbing up and down like a top, and prepare the necessary potions!" Lord Voldemort said in a terrible voice.

Wormtail looked as if his eyes would pop out of his head, and he was shaking so hard it seemed as if he would surely drop the small glass, jewel tone red flask he pulled from his robes and shatter it into a million pieces.

Draco watched as he stumbled over to one of the silver bowls beside the throne, and dropped a few drops of the potion from his flask into it. Then, he did the same with the other silver bowl. Hissing steam rose from the bowls, filling the air for a moment with an acrid, burning smell. It was almost nauseating.

There was a murmuring rising up from the crowd of Death Eaters, as if they were chanting some ancient evil spell. Then, Lord Voldemort stood from his throne and stepped down between the bowls. He raised his hands, and let his gaze fall on Draco once more.

"Come forward, Draco Malfoy, and receive my Mark, as a sign of your devoted service to me, your Lord and Master!" he intoned almost ecstatically.

Draco, setting his jaw against the fear that threatened to overwhelm him, arranged his face in as calm a mask as possible, and walked with firm, slow steps to where the Dark Lord stood. The chanting of the Death Eaters behind the scene intensified.

Voldemort extracted his wand from inside his robes, and nodded to Wormtail who lifted the silver bowl on the Dark Lord's right and held it before him. Slowly he waved his wand circuitously over the potion, and, in a low monotone, began speaking a spell of such evil magnitude that Draco could feel the dark magic surrounding him. His breathing became more labored, as he then watched the Dark Lord dip his wand into the gently bubbling potion and swirl it slowly, while continuing the necessary incantations.

After another moment, Lord Voldemort lifted his wand out of the potion, and looked up.

"Lucius, I will need your assistance now," he said softly.

And Lucius appeared beside Draco, looking supremely joyful.

"Take Draco's left arm and hold it steady," he said slowly.

Draco lifted his arm, his eyes scrutinizing Voldemort, a forced small smile of anticipation on his lips. His father gripped his arm at the wrist and just below the elbow, but said nothing. He did not even look at his son. He appeared to be loathe to break his gaze from his Master. The chanting of the Death Eaters was continuous, remaining at a steady, low hum.

Lord Voldemort lightly dangled the tip of his wand over Draco's forearm before he spoke again, gazing into Draco's eyes piercingly.

"Draco Malfoy," he intoned in his cold, gravelly voice. "I place this, my most glorious Mark upon you, thus binding you to me forever. You are, henceforth, first and foremost my servant. No other concern of yours shall take precedence over my will for you. This means that I may summon you to my side at any time, day or night, to do all I require. You are bound, under penalty of death, to die in my service if circumstances so demand it. Every time you feel its burn, let it remind you of my great and terrible power, and that it is far more desirable to be _for _me rather than against me."

With that he began rubbing the tip of his wand over Draco's bare forearm, with slow purposeful strokes, leaving brackish streaks of potion wherever his wand made contact with skin. As the green and black snake and skull Mark began to appear, a terrible burning also began to permeate the delicate flesh, and grew in intensity until Draco felt that his arm was on fire.

It took all his strength to keep from crying out. He permitted himself only a slight grimace. The Dark Lord was watching, and he would not appreciate weakness of any kind.

Finally, Voldemort lifted his wand away, and the burning subsided just a very little. But, other effects had begun to take hold on Draco's body and mind. He felt lightheaded and weak, almost as though he might faint. As he struggled to remain conscious, he was vaguely aware that his father was still holding his left arm and someone had taken his right arm as well. He could not help being grateful for the supplemental physical support, though he did his best not to lean to heavily upon it.

He was vaguely aware of Wormtail holding up the second bowl, and Voldemort repeating the swirling of his wand tip in the potion, and his muttering of spells as he did so. Draco did not see Lord Voldemort move his wand over his arm. And now, as Voldemort spoke again, his cold voice seemed so far away that it was hard to distinguish it from the continued low chanting of the Death Eaters. He worked to apply himself to Voldemort's speech.

"And now, I seal the Mark indelibly to you, Draco Malfoy, that it should never be removed. Let its permanence remind you that you have given all you are, even your very soul, to me, Lord Voldemort, your Lord and Master, forever!"

He felt the wand tip upon his arm once more, along with the almost unbearable burning. Draco fought to keep his knees from buckling under him. But, he still did not cry out.

He did not see or feel Voldemort take his wand away, for the burning did not lesson. And, he did not see Wormtail pour a splash of each potion into a goblet and swirl it before handing it to the Dark Lord.

His next realization was of the goblet being put to his lips, and Professor Snape's voice commanding him to drink. He did so, only because he was too weak to protest. For by now his mind was not entirely his own due to the excruciating pain, and other mind altering effects of the potion.

After he had drunk the potion he heard his father speaking through the haze.

"It is done, Draco!" he said with maniacal joy. "My son! My son! How long I have waited…"

Then, Snape's voice came very softly.

"Congratulations, Draco."

_So, that is who was holding me on the right,_ he thought confusedly.

There was some shuffling around, as Draco felt his father release him, and his whole weight being shifted to Snape.

"I'll take him now, Lucius. And, I'll keep you informed as to his recovery."

Then, he found himself half stumbling, as Snape half dragged him away.

By this time, the potion he had ingested, causing him terrible cramps in his stomach, and his body felt filled with the fiery burning. He let a groan escape his lips.

"It burns!" he gasped, hoping Snape had gotten him far enough away from Voldemort and his father that they could not hear him giving in to the pain.

"I know," Snape said not unkindly. "A little farther and I will give you the potion I've prepared to help counteract at least the physical effects."

It seemed like forever before Snape stopped again.

"Here," Snape said, his voice tight with tension. "Try to lean against this tree."

Draco used what was left to him of strength to hold himself against the tree. He kept his eyes closed against the dizziness and pain, as Snape administered the counter active potion. He drank it greedily, even though on first swallow he realized it tasted something like swamp water… He would do anything to stop this horrible pain!

"Is it easing you?" Snape asked almost solicitously.

Draco felt the potion slipping into his burning stomach. It gave a cooling effect, as though it were water slaking a fire.

"Yes," Draco managed hoarsely.

"Good," Snape said, taking Draco up again. "We will disapparate from here, though, unfortunately we will have to target the Black Forest as before." he finished grimly.

Draco felt his heart drop. He did not know if he could stand the journey through the Black Forest in this condition, but he realized he had no choice. He kept his mind focused Professor Dumbledore's promised help…and on seeing Hermione again.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

The trip after Snape and Draco disapparated became much easier…for which Draco was profoundly grateful. Snape, knowing he did not possess the strength to drag his charge all the way back to Hogwarts, decided to levitate him the rest of the way. So, Draco, his body cushioned by what felt like a warm pool of viscous water, only minus the wetness, was as comfortable as could be expected considering the extreme burning sensation he was still experiencing, inside and out. His skin, not just that which was on his forearm, now felt like it was simmering. Adding to that the live coal burning in his stomach, and Draco felt as though he had the worst case of stomach flu ever.

Every so often Snape stopped and fed Draco another swallow of the potion he had brought along to deal with these after effects of the Marking Ceremony. Those moments were like heaven to Draco, because for a short time, he was less sick. The burning slackened and his mind cleared. However, this was all too temporary, and he found himself too soon writhing under the pain again.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Snape levitated Draco carefully through the secret door they had used to leave the castle only two hours before. Draco immediately felt comforted. Hogwarts. Thank the gods! For, Hogwarts meant Dumbledore, and more importantly, Hermione.

After closing the secret door, and locking it with a spell, Professor Snape gave Draco the last swallow of potion in his flask for the trip upstairs.

"Thank you, Sir," Draco managed weakly.

"Do not worry," Snape said, with kindness only slightly tinged with his characteristic acidity. "I will inform Dumbledore right away of our arrival. He will come to you immediately, and I can guarantee that what he will do for you will greatly relieve your pain."

With this Draco felt his cushion of warmth moving forward again.

A quarter of an hour later, Hermione, by now pacing agitatedly in the common room, while Harry looked on in silence, heard a knock at the portrait hole door.

Hermione's eyes met Harry's for a fraction of a second, before they both made a dash to the door.

"Who is it?" Hermione squeaked anxiously.

"Professor Snape and Draco," Snape replied with some urgency.

Hermione gave the password, and through the portrait hole floated Draco's prone body, with Snape right behind him, his face a mask of worry.

"Oh, gods!" Hermione exclaimed at sight of Draco, her hand shooting up to her mouth, her eyes wide with horror.

Next moment she had gently cast herself on Draco's chest, her tears falling on his cloak.

"Draco," she cried.

"Hermione," he whispered, feeling relief wash over him. "Hermione, thank Merlin!"

In the light of the candles and the fire Draco looked pale and wan. In truth, his appearance was frightening to all beholding him.

Snape, not least of all. He knew what Draco was enduring at this very moment.

"I will go right away to summon Dumbledore," he said hurriedly. "Mr. Potter, I will trust you to see Mr. Malfoy to his bed, with Ms. Granger's help, of course."

Snape did not wait for an answer but slid lithely into the portrait hole and was gone.

Harry, looking pale but determined, lifted his wand and took over the task of moving Draco to his room, with Hermione accompanying.

The effects of Snape's potion were wearing off once again, and Draco let a groan pass his lips, as the burning in his weary body renewed its former strength.

Carefully, Harry lowered Draco to his bed, as Hermione pulled the covers down.

"Draco," Hermione said gently, as she covered him. "Hold on, darling. Dumbledore is coming. I'll get you some water."

She turned toward his bathroom, but Draco stopped her.

"No, Hermione, wait," he cried in a gravelly, pained voice.

"I don't want water," he said almost pleadingly. "I just want you to stay with me. Don't go," he whispered, taking her hand in his as she sat beside him on the bed.

Hermione's tears shone in her eyes, as she bent over him. She impatiently wiped them away with a quick movement of her free hand.

"Of course, my love. I won't leave you," she said, gently stroking his sweat saturated hair from his forehead.

Draco groaned again as he turned his face to her soothing hand and gently kissed its palm.

Harry stood nervously at the back of the room by the door wondering what to do to help.

"Hermione, I think I'll go wait in the common room for Dumbledore's arrival. I'll let you know when he comes, and you can come and open the door," he said heading out of the room.

"Wait, Harry," she said, turning large frightened eyes on her friend. "Would you mind letting Dumbledore and Professor Snape in yourself?"

Harry nodded.

"Just give me the password."

"It's, 'giant squid'."

Harry nodded again, and left Hermione to comfort Draco.

He was thinking, as he walked out, that he would not have wished the state Draco was now in on his worst enemy. Then it occurred to him that Draco was very close to his worst enemy…only Voldemort was more abhorrent…oh, and of course, Professor Snape. Harry chuckled at this line of thinking. Then, he realized he didn't have as much rancor in his heart toward Draco as he had had before. In fact, he had to admit, if only to himself, that he admired him for what he had done tonight. Dumbledore had told Harry and Ron that he had informed Draco what he might be facing if he went through the Marking Ceremony, but he had still agreed to do it. And seeing him as he was now…well, it made Harry wonder if, just possibly, Draco really had changed. Dumbledore certainly believed he had…and Hermione…Hermione not only believed in him, but she loved him. Not only had she declared as much to Harry in no uncertain terms, but Harry had eyes, hadn't he? Just now when she had turned to him to give him her password, he had seen the compassion in her eyes. He had seen the love.

Harry's ruminations were interrupted by a loud knocking at the portrait hole.

"Coming!" he said, rushing to the door to speak the necessary password.

Then he stood back as Dumbledore slid through the entry, with Professor Snape right behind him. Professor Dumbledore's face was grave.

"How is he," he asked quickly as he headed straight for Draco's room, with Snape who was carrying a large darkly colored flask, at his heels.

Harry trotted after the two Wizards.

"I don't think he looks good, Professor," Harry said nervously.

Dumbledore stopped short at the bedroom door, and gave Harry a penetrating gaze.

"Harry, do you know why the Dark Lord usually waits to induct his recruits until they are of age?" Dumbledore asked, peering over his glasses at his favorite student.

Harry shook his head. Dumbledore straightened up, and his mouth became a grim line.

"It is because he has found, unfortunately by experience that administering the Dark Mark to someone who is underage can more easily result in death. No one knows why this is, but it is true."

Dumbledore watched as Harry processed the information just given him. Snape cleared his throat, obviously impatient to go in to Draco.

"But, Sir, surely you told Malfoy this," Harry said, his voice quietly questioning.

"Of course," Dumbledore replied pointedly.

Harry understood immediately, and his face showed it.

"So, you see, Harry, why I am certain of Draco's loyalties."

Harry felt the gentle rebuke in Dumbledore's words. And, he appropriately felt regret that he had ever mistrusted Dumbledore's judgment concerning Draco.

"Does Hermione know about this?" Harry asked, sudden apprehension rising up in him for his best friend.

"No, Harry," Dumbledore answered. "And I think it best that she not be told. Draco needs her love right now, not her fear. Do you understand? Your part here is to help her do what she must do."

Dumbledore put his hand gently on Harry's shoulder.

"Yes, Sir," Harry said, setting his jaw.

"Then let us go in," Dumbledore said commandingly.

Hermione jumped up from Draco's side, where she was keeping vigil over him against Dumbledore's arrival.

"Professor Dumbledore!" she cried, not even attempting to hide her great relief at his coming.

"Ms. Granger, how is our patient?" he asked with a sympathetic smile, as he noted Draco's pallor and the sheen of sweat on his brow.

"I am glad you are here," Hermione said in an undertone, looking pensive. "He knows me, and we have even spoken a little, but he is in such pain!"

Professor Dumbledore gently patted Hermione's shoulder, and smiled reassuringly before seating himself beside Draco.

"Draco, how are you?" the Headmaster inquired gently, as he bent over him to examine him more closely.

"Good evening, Sir," Draco answered weakly, "I wish I could say I was better than I am."

Professor Dumbledore patted Draco's hand. He took in Draco's extremely pale face.

"Well, we are going to do something about that right now," he said purposefully.

Then he turned to Hermione.

"Hermione, I will need a small bowl and a goblet."

Hermione hastily procured the bowl and goblet from the kitchenette.

"Severus, the potion, please."

Professor Snape, flask still in hand, moved forward and took the bowl from Hermione. And, pulling the stopper, he unceremoniously dumped the contents of the flask into it, and began swirling it.

"We are ready, Professor," Snape said grimly.

"Thank you, Severus."

With a flourish, Dumbledore pulled his wand from his robes and addressed Draco loudly enough for the others to hear.

"Draco I will be undoing the Dark Lord's evil incantations, by using an antidotal potion, and performing the necessary counter spells. When we are through you will be free of the evil will of the Dark Lord, and free of all binding magical contracts he has laid upon you. Since you have agreed to work as a spy for the Order, I will not be removing the Mark itself, but it will hold no significance other than Voldemort will still be able to summon you. It will also protect you when you are with the Dark Lord and his servants by identifying you as one of them."

Dumbledore paused to allow Draco a moment to process this information.

"Do you understand what I have told you, Draco?"

"Yes, Sir," Draco whispered, his eyes looking trustfully up at his Headmaster.

Hermione was weeping now, and Harry held her while keeping his gaze steadily on Dumbledore.

"Severus, let us begin," Dumbledore said softly.

Snape stood beside Dumbledore, holding the bowl containing the potion before him, his face unreadable. Dumbledore dipped his wand into the potion, swirled it and began the incantations in a soft, low murmur.

"Draco, will you renounce all ties to Lord Voldemort, now, in the hearing of this assembled company?" he asked, his voice firm.

Draco opened his eyes, and all present noted that there was fire in them.

"I will," he replied, his voice stronger than it had been before.

Hermione covered her mouth to stifle the sob that threatened to escape her. Dumbledore nodded and smiled very gently.

"Then I release you from all contracts and ties that bind you to Lord Voldemort!" he said, his voice almost terrible in its fierceness.

Dumbledore then pulled the bed covers down and gently lifted Draco's left arm to his belly. The shirt sleeve was still loosened, so he pushed it back to reveal the Mark, which gleamed in the candlelight streaming from the bedside table.

Murmuring more incantations, Dumbledore pressed the tip of his wand to Draco's forearm and began to sweep it slowly over the green and black markings. As he did so, Hermione noticed an immediate difference in Draco's countenance. At first she thought she might be imagining it, but as she moved closer to the bed she was sure she had not. Very slowly but surely the pained lines etched into Draco's features began to smooth out. His breathing became easier, more natural. And the color began to flood back into his cheeks.

"Draco!" she breathed, awestruck.

Harry, who had moved closer to the scene with Hermione, squeezed her shoulder, and smiled when she turned her face up to him joyfully.

Professor Dumbledore turned to Professor Snape, and quickly moved from Draco's side.

"Now, Severus!" he said with some urgency.

Professor Snape grabbed the goblet hastily from Hermione's shaking hands and poured the potion from the bowl into it.

"Mr. Potter, come help me to sit him up," Snape said with the same urgency with which Dumbledore had just spoken.

Harry rushed to the side of the bed Snape was not occupying and reached over to help him pull Draco to a seated position.

Then Snape put the goblet to Draco's lips.

"Drink this," the Potions Master commanded him.

Draco did his best, but he spilled some of the potion down his front. No one took any notice of it. Everyone was watching to see what good effect would come of his drinking what he did get down.

The next moments were nothing short of miraculous. Draco's eyes slowly opened, and he looked around at those attending him as though it was the first time he had noticed them. His color was completely restored, and his eyes showed no sign of any pain at all.

Then his eyes rested on Hermione and he smiled. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Without thought to the others in the room, Hermione ran into his arms, weeping for joy.

Immediately the room's atmosphere changed. Gone were the quiet fearful voices, to be replaced by celebratory laughter, and high excited talking. Professor Dumbledore beamed around the room, while Professor Snape tried unsuccessfully to hide his great relief. Harry, who had not moved away from the bed after helping Draco sit up, was grinning from ear to ear.

Draco's eyes fell on Hermione's closest friend, and he felt a newfound respect for him.

"Thanks for helping us through this, Harry," he said slowly, tentatively.

It was obvious he was afraid of Harry's reaction to his addressing him directly and in so familiar a manner.

Harry looked down on his arch enemy for a moment, his face expressionless. Draco, cringing inwardly, waited for a reaction.

Then Harry proffered his hand, and grinned sheepishly. Draco took it and returned the grin.

"I'm glad you're all right," Harry said sincerely.

Hermione, who had been watching this exchange with wide, anxious eyes, jumped up on the bed between her two favorite men and grabbed them both up in a big hug. She could not speak, but her shining eyes said all that was in her heart. By the time she released Harry and Draco from her bear hug, they were both red-faced, but still grinning.

Dumbledore, at that moment, addressed the group, still smiling widely.

"All right, all right, that is enough celebration for one night," he said jovially. "Draco must have his rest to fully recover. I think it best that those of us who do not reside in these rooms leave immediately," he finished with a wave toward the door.

Everyone reluctantly began to say their goodbyes, except for Snape, who had regained his dour expression. He simply growled and swept out of the room.

But, absolutely no one was fooled by this display.

Harry left with a tired smile and the promise of his return tomorrow to see how the "invalid" was doing.

Dumbledore, who was the last to heed his own instruction, turned to Hermione and Draco, his blue eyes sparkling once again.

"Hermione, I will trust you to see to it that Draco gets his proper rest tonight and over the coming weekend," he said, his tone a little sober.

Hermione, a determined look in her eye, promised she would do her best. So, Dumbledore let his eyes rest solely on Draco.

"Obey your lovely nurse, Draco," he said with a knowing smile. "She knows best."

And with a parting wave, the wise old Wizard was gone.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

When Dumbledore had gone, Draco felt so well that he wanted to be up and about. He especially wished to talk to Hermione about all he had experienced. But Hermione, as much as she wished to spend time with Draco and hear his story, would not forget Professor Dumbledore's admonishment to both of them.

"You know what Dumbledore said, dearest," Hermione said as if correcting a small child.

"Yes, Yes!" Draco replied impatiently. "But, I feel fine, Hermione! I don't think I could rest if I tried. Can't we just talk for a little while?"

Hermione eyed him sternly, but it only made him smile. He knew he had won.

"All right," Hermione agreed wearily, "But only if you'll agree that we talk in bed."

"Is that all you plan on doing while we're there?" he asked, his eyes leveling her with a sensuous gaze.

Hermione rolled her eyes exasperatedly, but Draco was gratified to see the color rise in her cheeks at his suggestion. It told him she was guilty of entertaining the same thoughts.

"Oh, no you don't, Mister!" she said, shaking a finger at him. "Talking is all we're going to do tonight. Now let's have tea."

She turned to leave the room, but when she got to the door, she leaned against the frame and gave Draco a seductive look.

"Of course, if you're a good boy tonight, and get your rest," she said huskily, "…well…tomorrow might be," she winked slowly at this point, "…different."

She scurried out of the room, leaving Draco with his jaw dropped and eyes nearly popping out of his head. The raging fire he felt in his bones now had nothing to do with the effects of any potion.

_That woman is going to kill me! _he thought as he felt his body coming to life under his covers.

Several minutes later, Hermione returned with tea tray in hand, for all the world acting like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Gone was the "come hither" look in her eyes, and the suggestive body language. She only smiled sweetly as she placed the tray on the bedside table, and climbed in beside Draco. But, Draco was through playing games.

"Vixen," Draco growled as he eyed her hungrily.

Hermione gave him an innocent, wide-eyed look.

"Why, Sir," she drawled in a southern accent, "I'm sure I don't know what you mean!"

"Yes, you do," Draco said, his voice low with passion. "Come here," he commanded.

"Draco," she began, dropping all pretenses. "You know we can't…"

Draco took her in his arms.

"The hell we can't!" he said, his voice dark and insistent.

Then he kissed her so soundly that she forgot all about why she was supposed to be firmly protesting. She only wanted to drink him in.

"Oh, Draco!" she gasped.

But, he didn't give her the chance to say more. His lips took hers again, as he pulled her onto his lap. His hands wandered over her body, making her sigh softly. Soon their kisses and caresses burned with an unquenchable passion they both knew could not be stopped. And in a flurry of activity, robes and all other articles of clothing were soon to be found strewn haphazardly around the bed.

"Hermione," Draco whispered urgently, looking deeply into her eyes. "I love you. I need you."

She was caressing his back as he hovered over her, her heart and countenance gloriously full of love for him. Then, her hand wandered down to his left arm. As she curiously touched the Mark, Draco flinched and pulled away. Her eyes searched his questioningly, and she saw his extreme discomfort. She wondered if she had hurt him. And tears started in her eyes at the thought of what fate had brought them through that very night.

"Does it hurt?" she asked tentatively.

Draco's eyes looked haunted.

"No," he answered tightly, suddenly unable to look at her. "I just don't like to be reminded of it. It makes me feel dirty. It seems all wrong for you to be touching it."

Hermione's eyes flashed.

"I won't have that, Draco!" she cried angrily. "You _sacrificed _yourself tonight to do what was right! When I think of how you suffered…"

Her words trailed off, as she began to cry.

She put a gentle hand on his face, and made him look at her. His eyes were guarded, and the tears of shame Hermione saw there made her heart break.

"I don't ever want you to feel ashamed of that Mark!" she continued feelingly. "As far as I am concerned, it is a badge of honor, and nothing less!"

Desiring to emphasize the sincerity of her words, she took his arm in her hands and kissed the Mark reverently, her eyes never leaving his.

"I could have lost you," she whispered, stroking his face, as her tears continued to flow.

"But, you didn't," he answered, gently kissing those tears away.

"I love you, Draco," she said breathlessly. "I need to be as near to you as possible tonight. Please!"

He understood her meaning perfectly.

A few minutes later they were both lost in each other, as the intensity of their lovemaking transcended all else.

"Draco!" she cried in her ecstasy.

And his cry of her name in release came only moments after hers.

Giving her one last loving kiss, he gently collapsed on top of her.

They held each other tenderly, as a lovely drowsiness over took them. After a few moments, Draco rolled gently away, and pulled Hermione into the crook of his arm. Hermione sighed and turned her face onto his chest, wrapping her arm around him. Soon they drifted into a much needed dreamless sleep.

The next day, Draco and Hermione didn't wake until well after lunch time. Draco seemed largely unaffected by the previous night's events. He only seemed a bit tired, which Hermione considered a miracle. For, she, on the other hand, felt as though she had been hit by a truck. She yawned all the way through the late lunch the house elves had brought up at her request, but Draco ate heartily, and talked almost nonstop.

"How on earth can you be so energetic?" Hermione asked, feeling a bit irritated. "I feel like I could sleep for weeks."

She was on her third cup of coffee but she still felt no better.

"I don't know," Draco said, grinning. "Maybe it's the potion Snape gave me, or the counter spells Dumbledore cast over me, or maybe…"

Draco got up and came around to kneel before Hermione's chair and took her in his arms, his eyes darkening.

"…it was something else," he said suggestively, cocking an eyebrow at her and winking conspiratorially.

Hermione's cheeks pinked up slightly, and she smiled at him, memories of the night before flitting through her tired mind.

"Maybe," she said in soft agreement, playfully hitting his arm.

He kissed her gently, and she sunk into him exhaustedly. Draco picked her up easily in his strong arms and headed to his bedroom.

"Where are we going?" Hermione asked sleepily.

"You are going back to bed, my love," Draco said firmly.

Hermione's head popped off his shoulder.

"No, no, Draco," she said emphatically. "I'm fine, really. I don't want to leave you alone. Besides," she yawned widely," we really ought to do some studying, don't you think?" she finished, letting her head fall back onto his shoulder.

Draco had arrived at the side of his bed. Ignoring Hermione's protests completely, he gently laid her down and covered her up.

"I don't think you're in any condition to study, love," he said, softly stroking her hair. "Now, be a good girl and just rest."

Hermione rolled over to her side, and cuddling Draco's pillow, she closed her eyes.

"Well, if you're sure you'll be all right…"

Draco continued to stroke her hair for a moment more, as he smiled at her all ready sleeping form. Then, he snuck silently out of the room.

Looking around the common room, Draco tried to think what to do. Reluctantly he went to the small table by the portrait hole to get his books. Maybe he would do a little studying after all. He could help Hermione with the homework in their shared classes after she woke up. But, just as he had settled himself on his favorite couch he heard someone knocking.

_Now who could that be?_


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

For a moment, Draco stood looking perplexedly at the door. He felt no small amount of apprehension. For, in recent days a knock on the door had not heralded the bringing of pleasant news.

Then it struck him.

_Of course! _he thought, relief flooding him, _It's Harry! He did say he was coming to see us today…That's it, it's only Harry!_

And chuckling at his own paranoia, he strode to the door to let Harry in. He felt a touch awkward entertaining his former nemesis alone…After all they had only last night somewhat patched up their differences, and Draco knew there was still much he needed to say and do to make things right. But, he found himself feeling very glad at the prospect of Harry's company none the less. Somehow a quiet afternoon of studying didn't seem quite the thing after all he had been through the last few days.

"Giant squid," Draco murmured, and then stood back as his visitor slid into the entry without a word.

_Ron Weasley?_

Draco could not believe his eyes! He fought the temptation to rub them in disbelief. He found himself backing away a bit from the surly-looking redhead. Draco was feeling much better this morning, but he knew he was in no way ready for another of Weasley's attacks.

"Weasley, what are you doing here?" Draco asked in low, defensive tones.

Ron didn't answer immediately, but stood slouching before him, hands stuffed in his pockets---he wore no robes---looking every bit as truculent as Draco had ever seen him.

"If you're looking for Hermione, she's sleeping…" he tried, but Ron interrupted him.

"It's you I'm looking for," he growled, pushing rudely past Draco.

"Well, by all means, let me invite you in!" Draco said sarcastically before following his unwelcome visitor into the common room proper.

Ron looked in no mood for petty sarcasm as he threw himself down on one of the couches.

"I think we need to talk, Malfoy," he ground out without further preamble.

Draco took the seat opposite Ron.

"What about?" he inquired, trying to keep his voice even.

"What about?" Ron repeated incredulously. "What do you think?"

Ron's eyes looked like live coals being kindled. His considerable anger was again threatening to come to the surface, and Draco knew his only hope was to take immediate control of this conversation…to put some limits on it.

"Look, Weasley!" he started, voice full of dangerous intent. "I don't know what this is all about, but I'll tell you right now I'm not in the mood for any more of your histrionics! Keep it civil or get out! It's as simple as that! The only reason I'm talking to you at all at this point is for Hermione's sake. For some reason that I cannot fathom she wishes to keep you around…"

Draco was interrupted by Ron's bitter, mirthless laugh.

"Does she now!" his eyes were wild with undisguised pain. "Well, that's news to me! She didn't seem so anxious to keep me around the other night!"

Ron sat back in his seat, glaring at Draco.

"And it's all _your _fault, you know!"

Draco narrowed his eyes.

"Correct me if I'm wrong Weasley, but the version I got is that _you_ were the one who walked out on _her! _ After trying to force her into an impossible choice between you and me!"

Draco felt his blood pressure rising, as he continued to regard Ron with disgust. But Ron waved away Draco's last statement as though its pettiness was something to be despised out of hand.

"You just couldn't go away, could you?" Ron growled.

"Why on earth should I?" Draco returned heatedly, "Why, just because _you _say so? I should think not!"

Ron jumped up from the couch and began pacing.

"Not because I say so, you selfish prat!" he said, his voice rising. "Because it's best for Hermione!"

He paused, seemingly to get a grip on himself. He ran his hand roughly through his fiery hair before continuing.

"Now I want you to listen to me and listen well! If you really care about her, you will…without interruption!" he finished, pointing his finger down at Malfoy.

Then he paced a little more, collecting his thoughts. Finally he stopped, facing Draco again.

"Don't you see, Malfoy, how her life has been turned upside down since you came along?" he asked, his voice almost pleading.

"Can't you see that you'll never be able to make her really happy? There are just too many obstacles to be overcome! Not to mention the question of her safety…"

Draco sat quietly watching Ron begin to pace again, as he recounted the problems as he saw them.

"Your family's opposition alone would be insurmountable! And what of all their evil little friends? Oh, I know Dumbledore thinks you can hide the true nature of your relationship with Hermione and even use it as a way to spy for the Order…But, what happens _when_, and I mean _when_, someone in the Dark Lord's camp figures it out? Have you even thought what that will mean? Have you thought of the danger you would be putting her in?"

He paused to give Draco a chance to respond, but Draco only continued to stare at Ron, his face unreadable. Ron took this as his cue to recommence.

"Besides all of that…" he said with another wave of his hand. "What happens when one day you decide you're sorry you signed up for this new life. Because, I'm sorry, but there is no way you have made any kind of permanent change, Malfoy!" Ron said forcefully, his eyes full of dark mistrust. "You think you love Hermione now. You think you're a different person, and you'll never go back to your old ways. But it's only been a couple of weeks since the supposed miracle of your change of heart took place. Think about it! How long can you keep it up? Forever? Because that's what it's going to take to do right by Hermione and all those who have decided to put their trust in you."

He paused for effect, eyeing Draco with no small amount of rancor. Draco returned his gaze measure for measure.

"No! You can't do it!" Ron continued with an air of the hunter moving in for the kill. "And I think deep down inside, you know it! I think you know you are like the proverbial leopard…the leopard who never really changes his spots!"

Ron stopped, slumping over a bit, his breathing heavy from exertion. Then he drew himself up once more, and glared pointedly at Draco one last time.

"You will hurt her one day, Malfoy. One way or another. Mark my words."

This last was said with quiet sorrow. Ron's eyes were haunted, his face slack with pain.

Draco held Ron's eyes for a moment, saying nothing. Then he looked quietly down at his hands, trying to gather his thoughts. He felt suddenly as if his world were spinning completely out of control.

All through Ron's speech, Draco had remained quiet. At first, he had not wanted to give Ron any reason to completely lose his composure, so obvious was it that he was on the edge. But, the longer Draco listened to Ron's reasoning the more he wondered about the possible truth of it. Was he really being selfish and careless of Hermione's safety? Was it really wrong to involve her in a relationship with him when his family and acquaintances were so dangerous?

And what of Ron's other assertions? Up until the moment he had arrived to try to steal his hope, Draco had been absolutely sure of his intentions, and his ability to follow through with them, but now…

What if he couldn't do it? What if there was no possibility he could really change?

A sudden pain ripped through his heart, and with difficulty he contained the gasp that tried to escape his lips. Was he just playing a foolish game with the woman he loved? He felt maddened by doubt!

Then Ron's voice brutally broke into his thoughts.

"Will you listen to reason at last, Malfoy?" he asked, again in a soft pleading voice. "Will you give Hermione her life back? Will you do what you should have done long before and set her free?"

Draco looked up to see Ron watching him intently, and for a moment they locked eyes. Draco could feel Ron willing him to accept his plea and act on it accordingly.

He didn't know what to say…He was on point of giving in. It really did seem the right thing to do.

Then there was another knock at the door.

Draco broke eye contact with Ron at the sharp intrusive sound and shook himself as if from a trance. Then, he jumped up to get the door, not sparing the time to wonder who might be knocking now.

After Draco had given the requisite password, the door opened and in came Harry grinning broadly at him.

"Hello, Draco," Harry said, looking him up and down. "You look like you're feeling better…"

Harry cut his comment short when his eyes fell on Ron who was still standing in the sunken common room, glaring sullenly at him.

"Ron," Harry said softly, his expression becoming instantly guarded. "What are you doing here?"

It was more of a demand than a question. But, Ron only looked as though he would like to tell Harry to go to hell. In any case he deigned to answer Harry's question.

"I might ask you the same question," he said, his voice full of mocking disdain. "Am I to assume that you, too, have fallen under the clever spell of Malfoy here?"

Harry stared at Ron letting white hot anger wash over him.

"I think you'd better go, Ron," Harry said, barely controlling his temper.

"Don't worry," Ron spat out. "I was just leaving!"

With amazing speed he swept past Draco and Harry and was at the door, ready to depart. He turned one last time to Draco and pointed at him commandingly. Both Draco and Harry noticed that his hand was shaking with anger.

"You just think very seriously about what I've said!" he said in furious tones.

Then he was gone.

The next moment Draco's door opened and Hermione stepped out still clad in her dressing gown, and modestly holding closed its neck. Her eyes were wide and questioning, as she took in the grim faces of Harry and Draco at a glance.

"What's going on?" she asked quietly. "I heard voices out here."

She looked between the two men who meant the most to her in the world. Her face paled at their morose expressions.

"Who was it, and what has happened now?"


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

Draco and Harry felt distinctly uncomfortable under Hermione's close scrutiny. She had moved to the fireplace, and looked more imposing with the light of the blaze outlining her form and playing on her features.

"What has happened?" Hermione persisted, still moving her gaze back and forth between the two men inquiringly.

Harry shifted uncomfortably and looked meaningfully at Draco. Draco only nodded, and Harry strode toward Hermione purposefully.

"Look Hermione," Harry began nervously. "Ron was just here…"

"Ron was here?" Hermione squeaked. "Why didn't someone come in and wake me," she said looking a little disapprovingly at both her men in turn.

Draco cleared his throat, and moved to join Harry and Hermione at the fire. He did not move to touch her or comfort her in any way. Hermione felt vaguely puzzled by this, but said nothing.

"Ron didn't come to see you, Hermione," Draco said, his face an unreadable mask. "He came to see me."

"You, Draco?" Hermione smiled as though she wasn't sure if Draco was pulling some kind of joke on her. "Why would he do that?"

Harry was standing between the two looking puzzled, when suddenly understanding lit up his face. His eyes narrowed and a disgusted chuckle came out of him unbidden.

"Of course…" he breathed angrily.

Both Hermione and Draco turned their attention on Harry, eyes politely questioning. Harry snapped out of his personal reverie, and grabbed Draco's arm and started to drag him to the portrait hole door, grim determination in his every movement…in his very countenance. He did not explain himself, or even turn back to look at Hermione.

"Hermione, Draco and I are going for a walk," he said in a tone that did not leave room for argument.

"Harry, what are you talking about!" Draco cried in alarm. "I'm hardly dressed for an outing! I'm still in my sweats…"

"Here," Harry interrupted, while hastily grabbing a cloak off the coat rack beside the door and throwing it at Draco.

"Thanks," Draco said grimly, as he tossed the cloak over his shoulders.

Meanwhile, Hermione was speeding toward the two, full of protests.

"Harry, you can't mean to take Draco out!" she pleaded. "Not in his condition! Besides, you still haven't told me what's happening!" She laid a beseeching hand on Harry's arm, her eyes begging for any kind of information to squelch the alarm that was now pounding on the door of her heart.

Harry took a deep breath and rounded on Hermione almost angrily. His eyes were penetrating hers uncomfortably, and Hermione found herself stepping back a little, though her hand remained on Harry's arm.

"Listen to me, now, Hermione," he said, desperation in his voice. "You must trust me when I tell you that you must let us go, and I mean right now! If you don't, I guarantee that very shortly you'll wish you had."

Harry's face was only inches from hers, and she could not miss the look in his eyes. She swallowed back the fear rising in her, and let her restraining hand fall away from Harry very slowly.

"Of course I trust you, Harry," she whispered, finally stepping back and allowing him and Draco free passage.

She looked at Draco, who was watching the exchange without uttering a single syllable, quiet resignation on his face. If Harry's present behavior and countenance were alarming to Hermione, the look on Draco's face sent her heart to her shoes. What on earth was wrong with him? But, Harry didn't give her the chance to voice her questions.

"We'll be back," Harry said tightly as he practically shoved Draco out of the portrait hole.

In a moment, Hermione found herself alone and very much afraid. She didn't understand any of this! That was what was so terrifying. Both Harry and Draco were acting so strangely! And why had Ron been here to see Draco? Obviously, something had happened that Draco and Harry weren't telling her. Was it really so bad that they had to act so mysterious!

Hermione felt the cold fingers of fear constricting her heart.

_No! _she thought. _I will not do this_!

She shook herself, and set her jaw firmly. She had told Harry she trusted him…and she did. She must just hold on to that truth. Whatever happened, she knew Harry would always look out for her…

"I will just wait here, and they will come back and explain it all to me in due time," she said out loud to herself in a firm tone.

"I will not fear. I will only believe." she insisted, clenching her fists at her sides.

And with a determination she did not feel, she stalked into the kitchenette to make herself a cup of tea.

Meanwhile, Harry had continued to drag the still completely nonresistant Draco with him, through the castle and out into the grounds, never heeding the puzzled glances of their fellow students for a moment. Neither of them spoke, as they moved with all speed around the lake. Harry wanted complete privacy for this conversation, and he had in mind the bench under the huge old oak tree located half way around the lake.

Draco for his part, acted as though he was completely numb. The fact that he was not protesting Harry's less than gentle treatment of him told the whole story. Draco had the air of a man preparing himself do something painful, but necessary. He was all but shut down now, and Harry knew it. Time was of the essence. He had to talk sense to Draco before he became unreachable…before it was too late.

Finally, the two men reached their destination, and Harry roughly pushed Draco onto the bench and glared at him.

"Don't do it, Draco," Harry said angrily.

Draco looked up at him, his eyes glazed and expressionless.

"Don't do what?" he asked in a hollow tone.

"Don't leave Hermione."

These emotionally charged words hung between them for a few seconds, as the two men eyed each other…Harry's snapping with angst…Draco's dull with pain.

"I don't have any other choice," he said, tearing his eyes from Harry and hanging his head.

"That is the biggest load of bull I think I have ever heard!" Harry bellowed.

Draco looked up again, startled. But, the next moment he had settled back into his half life state.

"No, it's not," he whispered simply.

"Yes, it is!" Harry continued to yell. "And in your heart you know it! Good gods, Draco, what did Ron say to you? Did he spout crap about you being dangerous for Hermione? Or, how about…" Harry pretended to think really hard, "did he say you weren't up for the challenge of this relationship. Did he convince you that you can't change… that you're destined to hurt her?"

Draco looked up again, a flicker of surprised affirmation in his eyes. Harry's eyes were triumphant.

"I knew it!" he crowed with grim satisfaction, slapping his thigh agitatedly. "I just knew it!"

"_How_ did you know it?" Draco asked in quiet awe.

"Because Ron and I had a little conversation a couple of days back. While you were at the Marking Ceremony I shared some of it with Hermione, by the way…not all of it, you understand. She didn't need to hear it all. Anyway, he was trying to convince me that I must break off my friendship with Hermione until she came to her senses about you. He used the same reasoning I mentioned just now to convince _me, _which he used with _you_ today!"

Draco's eyes began looking more alive…Then his face deflated again like a balloon.

"It doesn't really matter, you know," Draco said, his voice defeated. "Because whether Ron said it all to you or to me, the fact remains that it's all true," he finished with a deep sigh.

Harry regarded Draco for only a moment.

"Of course it's true!" he said vehemently, throwing up his hands in frustration. "But, what has that to do with anything?"

Draco eyeballed Harry as though he thought Harry had suddenly lost all reason. But Harry only shook his head, and took the seat next to him.

"You aren't looking closely enough at this thing, Draco!" he said desperately. "The Wizarding World is a very dangerous place for everyone right now! Do you honestly think you are the first Wizard to fight in this war at the risk of his loved ones getting hurt?" He searched Draco's face for a moment. "And has it occurred to you that Hermione was all ready in grave danger before she got close to you? After all, everyone, including Voldemort, knows that she and I are close friends, don't they? And," Harry raised an emphasizing finger, "barring her love for you and her friendship with me…do you honestly think she wouldn't be on the front lines of this war anyway?" Harry shook his head significantly. "If you think that then you obviously don't know Hermione very well at all." Harry looked off into the distance and smiled fondly at the thought of his dear friend's tenacious nature.

Draco, who had listened very carefully to Harry's heart-felt discourse, was now experiencing something of a revival of the soul. He knew within himself that Harry was right. Hermione was destined to be a prominent figure in the War…But, was she also fated to love him?

"Harry, what you've said is the truth…I see that now, but it still remains…"

"That you might hurt Hermione one day…" Harry said, nodding sagely.

Harry stood up slowly, and shoving his hands in his pockets, walked to the edge of the Lake, and gazed out over its serene, glistening waters. Draco came up to stand beside him. Neither man looked at the other.

"Yes," Harry said softly, "that was the obstacle the kept me from accepting your relationship at first. In fact, to tell the truth, that was my greatest fear for Hermione…"

Draco nodded slowly.

"Until I realized that just as there are risks in war, so there are risks in love."

At this point, Harry turned to behold the miserable man at his side.

"Draco, you are nothing special," he began.

"Oh, thanks, Harry," Draco countered grimly, as he looked away.

"No," Harry chuckled softly. "I mean the relationship that you and Hermione have is a great love story, but it is not the only love story in this world. Think of all the lovers in history that have overcome much more than you have facing you now. I know it all seems very big to you…and I won't say that it isn't big. But, from where I am standing, it seems to me that everywhere I look love is a messy, frightening, heart crushing part of life. Everyday, people who purport to love one another hurt each other. Everyday! It leads one to think that love isn't necessarily all about happiness, doesn't it? I mean, in the best of circumstances loving another fallible human being is a calculated risk, isn't it?"

Draco's eyes were now riveted to Harry's face.

"What I'm saying is that if you leave Hermione out of some falsely noble desire to keep from hurting her then you are sadly deceived by your own selfish need to do the 'right thing'," Harry hooked his fingers in the air, "…and you do both her and yourself a great disservice. You might be able to comfort yourself with the knowledge that you are only protecting her, but the truth is that there is no noble underpinning to walking away now. I don't have to tell you that she loves you with all her heart…and you love her, too. You've committed yourselves to one another, haven't you?" he paused, and leveled his companion with a penetrating gaze before continuing. "Draco, she showed me the ring you gave to her. I saw the love-light in her eyes. It's too late. The two of you are one. This is about 'until death do you part' now. If you walk away now, you will break her heart. You'll be destroying her! She'll never be whole again!"

Harry's words were fervent, his face full of eloquent pleading. Draco knew he could not argue with his reasoning, for he felt the light of truth dawn in his heart. He let it wash over him and fill him with peace.

"Sage words of wisdom, Harry," he said softly, feeling profoundly grateful toward his new friend.

Harry smiled briefly, before his countenance became sober again.

"Now I think we'd better get you back to Hermione again. I've a feeling you've got some tall explaining to do, mate." Harry said grimly, as he began walking.

"You're coming in, aren't you?" Draco said, alarm ringing in his voice. "To help me explain, I mean."

"Oh, no," Harry said, raising his hands up before him as if to ward such a notion off. "She's all yours, Draco."

"Thanks, Harry," Draco murmured. "And you're supposed to be so courageous…"

Harry grinned, and slapped Draco on the back.

"Good luck!" he said playfully.

Then they headed back to the castle in earnest.


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Draco and Harry hurried back around the Lake toward Hogwarts castle, too full of their own cares to notice the verdant beauty all around them. Their fellow classmates were however, not so full of care.

Young men and women could be seen everywhere, by anyone caring to observe the charming scene, soaking in the late afternoon's pale autumn sunshine. Students wrapped in cloaks and wearing their various identifying house scarves strolled about here and there, talking, laughing and playing, and just generally enjoying the fresh, crisp air and the vibrant fall foliage with its rich autumnal hues of bright gold, pale green, fiery orange, and deep, rich red. The smell of drying leaves being crushed under youthful and careless feet filled the air, along with the acrid, familiar smell of leaves burning out behind Hagrid's hut at the edge of the Black Forest.

The two friends made it to the Head's portrait hole in record time, so compelled were they both to relieve any torment of mind Hermione might be experiencing. But, Harry was true to his word. He did not accompany Draco into the common room to help with the explanations. He clearly felt he must leave that to Draco.

"You are the one she will want to hear from, Draco," Harry had said kindly, but resolutely.

And no amount of pleading from Draco could change his mind.

So, with an encouraging pat on the back and a smile from his newfound counselor, Draco spoke the password and entered the Head's shared common room with no small amount of trepidation.

As it turned out, Draco need not have worried so much about Hermione's state of mind. For since his inexplicable departure with Harry, she had been doing some thinking on her own, piecing together the few facts she had gathered in the minutes before they had gone. And, as she was the smartest witch of her age, her musings had come reasonably close to the truth of the matter.

After two cups of tea, and considerable meditation, Hermione had decided that Ron must have tried to talk Draco out of continuing his relationship with her, obviously using very strong and seemingly reasonable arguments regarding his unsuitableness for her. Draco had wavered under such pressure, and Harry, who had either been present at Ron's assault, or had come shortly thereafter, had guessed at Draco's torment of mind, and had felt urgently compelled to take matters into his own hands.

From there it was only a matter of reminding herself that she trusted Harry with her very life, and there was no reason on earth to stop trusting him now. As she had dwelt upon this truth, she'd felt her equilibrium returning to her, and her peace along with it.

As a result, upon Draco's arrival at the common room, he found a decidedly unruffled Hermione curled up on her window seat with her blankets and pillows calmly studying her Charms text, as though she hadn't a care in the world.

Uncertainty evident on his face, he stepped over to the window seat tentatively, and locked his eyes on Hermione's face, hoping to discern her thoughts. She took his hand and kissed it tenderly, tears starting in her eyes.

"Don't worry," she whispered softly. "I know what happened, and I understand."

Then, without a trace of reserve or mistrust, she smiled radiantly up at him.

Draco heaved a sigh of relief, and quickly gathered her into his arms, gently kissing the top of her head. He could not believe how close he had come to walking away from her! How grateful he was to Harry for his sane perspective in the middle of all the chaos!

"I'm so sorry, love!" he whispered sorrowfully, remembering her pleading eyes just before Harry pushed him through the portrait hole. "It's just that all that Ron said was so compelling…"

He was rocking her back and forth on his lap now, as if she were a precious, much loved child.

"Of course, of course," Hermione crooned softly, reaching up to stroke his face, and capturing his eyes again. "But, everything is all right now. We can only be made stronger by this incident. What was meant for evil against us has been turned to good, because now we know beyond a shadow of a doubt that we are meant to be together. Nothing will ever tear us apart. And that is knowledge worth having. It will see us through many a hard time, if I am not very much mistaken."

Draco could not trust himself to speak, so he nodded slowly, and pulled her to him again. Suddenly, he felt absolutely exhausted. He fervently hoped that the resolving of this incident would be followed by a break in the action.

The rest of the day brought much needed rest and relaxation to Draco and Hermione. They studied, shared tea, and walked a little about the grounds with Harry. Draco, Hermione, and Harry, all three, privately marveled at how easy it was to just forget about the War and the unpleasant events that had happened in recent days. It was wonderful to laugh again, to not have a tight little knot of tension in one's stomach, if even just for a little while.

The threesome, by some unspoken agreement, did not speak of Ron, or his treachery. They knew there would have to be some discussion about it again one day soon…just not today. Today must be about the gracefully tall and anciently gnarled trees scattered throughout the grounds ostentatiously showing off their fall wardrobe of gorgeous, earthy color. And the Lake shimmering like liquid diamond under the coldly aloof, but beauteous autumn sun. It was lovely to pretend that they were like all their fellow students, with nothing more pressing on their minds than the next Transfiguration exam.

That evening, Draco finished his studying a bit earlier than Hermione, so he chose to complete the only unpleasant chore he felt compelled to perform that day. He sat down at his desk and composed a note to Crabbe and Goyle, commanding them to meet with him in the North Tower at 10 p.m. the next evening. He knew he could not put this duty off any longer, for he must keep up appearances. There was no question that the old Draco would be bursting to boast to his henchmen about the Marking ceremony, and the new Mark that made him an official Death Eater.

After the note had been written and sent via a particularly trustworthy first year Slytherin, Draco sat at his desk reflecting on the major life changes he had made with the help of Hermione and his new friends. Draco wished with all his heart that he could totally immerse himself in his new life, without another thought to the Darkness from which he had been rescued. He chuckled to himself at such musings, because, now that he had experienced both sides of the coin he knew that the new life was much harder by comparison, at least circumstantially. But he cherished it, because it was real. There was fear, but it could not force on him a yoke of bondage. It could no longer compel Draco to doggedly look for ways to survive at the expense of conscience. He did not have to be a coward, always shunning any and all true attachments to make him able to do what he had to do to preserve self. How deceived he had been! Draco's greatest fear had once been physical death, but now that he knew True Life, he only feared returning to the loveless, self-absorbed _living_ death he had once mindlessly dwelt in. In short, his soul, which had once dwelled in the valley of the shadow, was now fully alive, and he could not imagine ever going back to the half-life existence he had once thought was the only way for him. Now, he considered that human beings were not really meant for such base existence…an existence almost entirely ruled by impulse and instinct… with no real purpose or even thought to purpose outside of mere survival. That kind of furtive, dark, soul-deadening _nonlife_...that was truly a fate worsethan death.

"What are you thinking about, love," Hermione's voice broke pleasantly into Draco's thoughts.

He turned to look at her lovingly. She looked fetching, wrapped in a throw, surrounded by books on her window seat, her reading glasses perched low on the bridge of her nose. So fetching, in fact, that Draco could not help going to her. He took her in his arms and kissed her gently, then tucked her burnished brown head under his chin.

"Oh, just about how much better my life has gotten since I found you," he said sincerely.

Hermione pulled away a little and regarded him, her eyes shining, and then she answered him with a deep, loving kiss. Draco groaned at the sudden desire flooding him. He felt Hermione's hands gently rubbing the back of his neck and sending chills down his spine. He broke the kiss suddenly, his eyes looking hungrily into hers.

"If you keep that up, love, you'll be doing no more studying," he said darkly, his voice low with passion.

Hermione said nothing, but with a desirous look in her eye, lay back on her pillows, and stretched herself out invitingly before him. Draco could contain himself no longer. Without hesitation, he scooped her up off her perch and hurriedly carried her to his bedroom, slamming the door shut with a foot as they swept through.

That door remained closed for quite some time.

Meanwhile, Harry sat hunched in his favorite squashy, low to the floor, red damask chair before the blazing fire in the Gryffindor common room thinking about the last several day's events. It had really been a whirlwind! Since Ron had beaten Draco nearly senseless in the hidden nook behind the tapestry across from the first floor girl's loo, Harry had hardly had the time to properly address his feelings about Ron's increasingly erratic behavior. Ron had not really spoken to him since their confrontation two days ago, during which Harry had refused to cut off his relationship with Hermione over her continued relationship with Draco. And then had come the surreal moment when Harry had felt forced to all but kick Ron out of Draco and Hermione's common room. He had done it knowing that he could very well be sounding the death knell over his relationship with Ron forever. He felt a dreadful melancholy growing in him as this possibility settled over his mind with startling clarity. Harry had known and trusted Ron for the better part of seven years. Though he would never admit it out loud, for fear of hurting Hermione, the truth was that Ron was his dearest friend. It hurt Harry immensely to have to pit himself against his best friend, but truth and honesty demanded it.

Ron most certainly did not see it that way. He had called Harry a traitor. Apparently Ron felt that Harry should follow his lead in this battle with Hermione, whether he agreed with Ron's reasoning or not.

Could pain do this to a person? Though Harry and Ron had never openly discussed it, Harry had always known how Ron felt about Hermione. It was obvious to him, as well as any thinking, feeling person in the school that Ron was in love with her. And yet he had never told the one person who could make his dreams come true…Hermione herself. Why?

Harry supposed it had to do with Ron's insufferable pride. That pride fueled his terror of rejection, which in turn blinded him, so that he could not perceive the truth that Hermione had, at least for a time, fully returned his feelings. Now Harry had a sneaking suspicion that Ron did see that truth, and it was tormenting him to the point that he could not contain his fits of jealous rage. He could not accept that he had lost his chance with Hermione, and that, worse yet, Draco Malfoy had won her heart instead.

It really was a pitiable situation. Harry so much wanted to help his friend, but he could not pander to his irrational demands. He knew in his heart that this was a defining moment for Ron. This loss of Hermione would either make him or break him. It was as simple as that.

Harry sighed as he contemplated what might happen if Ron succumbed. This dark thought was too horrible to entertain.

Just at that moment, Harry heard a shuffling noise behind him. He turned to find the source of the disturbance, and found himself looking straight into the burning eyes of his former best friend, Ron Weasley.


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

For a moment, Harry and Ron stared at each other warily.

"So," Ron said sullenly, folding his arms over his chest, and circling Harry's chair slowly. "The Boy Who Lived worked a little of his magic for Malfoy, did he?"

Harry, trying to look unconcerned, rolled his eyes nonchalantly.

"What are you talking about?" he asked evenly.

"Come off it, Harry! I saw you walking with the lovebirds out near the lake earlier this afternoon," Ron said mockingly. "Which can only mean that you talked Malfoy out of taking my advice!" he finished in a malevolent tone.

Harry, sensing he would be at a disadvantage if he was sitting and Ron was to come at him, jumped up and faced his former best friend, who now stood as his accuser.

"I won't deny it," he said coolly. "It was wrong what you did, Ron…unequivocally wrong! I just cleaned up your mess!"

Ron's eyes narrowed and his face reddened at the boldness of Harry's words.

"Are you really that blind, Harry!" he bellowed.

Harry, still playing it cool, waved his hand dismissively.

"Look, we had this conversation before, remember? I've not changed my mind, and it's obvious you've not changed yours either!"

Harry paused, as if trying to decide whether to say more. Finally, he sighed heavily and looked at Ron exasperatedly.

"Why can't you just accept that Hermione loves Draco? She _wants_ to be with him. No one is forcing her!"

Harry felt desperate to get Ron to understand.

For a moment, Ron looked as if Harry had struck him. Harry did not move; he hardly dared breathe. Then, Ron drew himself up a little.

"Because I seem to be the only one interested in what's best for Hermione," he said weakly, his eyes on his shoes.

There was little conviction in Ron's voice now. Harry could see just how weary all the conflict, internal and external, had made him. Seeing his friend so deflated gave Harry no joy at all. He felt exhausted himself, just beholding Ron's beleaguered countenance. Slowly Harry took his seat again, and with a simple gesture of the hand, offered Ron the chair opposite. Ron fell into the chair, and sat silently staring at the blaze in the grate. His ginger hair reflected the orangey glow, making it resemble fire, too.

Harry took the moment of quiet to collect his thoughts. He knew it was time to say the hard things to Ron. It was time to help his friend see the truth, for his own sake as much as for everyone else's who was involved.

"Ron," he began carefully. "I've no doubt that you believe with all your heart that Hermione is making a big mistake…"

"Only the biggest mistake of her life," Ron interrupted petulantly.

"All right," Harry said, receiving the correction with grace. "But, I think there's another reason motivating your, shall we say, extreme reaction."

Ron didn't look up. It was as if he knew what was coming and was insulating himself against the inevitable blow. By the look in his eyes, Harry could tell he was in too much pain to raise any protest. Pathetic though Harry thought this was, he was also somewhat thankful for his friend's current state of mind. It meant that not only could Harry get a word in edgewise, but Ron might actually hear him, and let the words penetrate to his more rational self, thereby setting him free from his personal, self-created hell.

As Ron made no attempt to speak, Harry continued, being as delicate as he possibly could.

"Ron, I think your desire to be with Hermione is driving you rather more than it should," he said with quiet conviction.

Harry paused again, carefully gauging Ron's reaction, before continuing.

For a moment, Ron gave no indication that he'd heard Harry's assertion. Harry fell silent for a beat, and then tried again.

"Ron?" he began.

Ron closed his eyes against the pain.

"Harry, don't," he whispered miserably. "Don't say it again."

His attitude was one of total dejection. Harry leaned forward in his chair a little and fixed Ron's face with a sympathetic gaze.

"Why can't you let this go?" he asked, gently insistent.

Ron opened his eyes slowly. They were swimming in pain, and his voice broke as he tried to speak.

Finally, he managed it.

"I just can't," he forced out softly. "I just can't."

Then, he got up slowly and shuffled away, stooping as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Harry watched him sorrowfully but did nothing to stop him.

Later, Harry visited Draco and Hermione in their common room. Over tea, he related the story of his conversation with Ron to them, his voice quiet and full of regret.

Hermione's face was pale, her lips a thin line, as she listened, while Draco, his arm around her, gently squeezed her shoulder comfortingly.

"Poor Ron!" Hermione whispered shakily. "There must be something we can do to help him!"

"I tried, Hermione," Harry said, shaking his head. "I think he knows he has lost this battle, but is just not ready to give it up."

Draco nodded soberly.

'Harry's right, love. There is nothing to be done for Ron until he is willing to stop fighting." he said, turning to Hermione, and catching her eye. "I'm so sorry."

Both Harry and Hermione could see Draco's sincerity. It was obvious he was not enjoying Ron's suffering at all.

It was by this time, around seven p.m., and the three friends were hungry, so they decided to go to the Great Hall for a bite of dinner.

Upon their arrival, they noted that many fellow students turned to gawp at them. They did not even attempt to hide their astonishment at seeing Draco and Hermione holding hands, let alone seeing Harry with them, behaving for all intents and purposes as though he had not only given his approval of the relationship, but had buried the considerably large and heavy hatchet between he and Draco as well.

And the upheaval at the Slytherin table was not to be matched. Of course, Crabbe and Goyle sat in surly silence, having been apprised by Professor Snape of the supposed "plan" Draco was working out on behalf of the Dark Lord. But, Pansy Parkinson was making cat calls, and Blaise Zabini was openly making obscene gestures to relieve his offended Slytherin pride.

Harry let his gaze wander to the teacher's table and caught the grave looks of Professor Snape and Professor Dumbledore. They did not move to stop the uproar, but looked poised to do so should the situation get out of control.

"Maybe this wasn't such a great idea after all," Harry said through clenched teeth.

Hermione nodded, her eyes wide with shock at a particularly filthy remark Pansy had just shot in her direction.

But, Draco had put on his most "Malfoyish" sneer, and was eyeing his fellow housemates angrily.

"Don't worry about this," he hissed through barely moving lips. "I can deal with it."

At which point, he swept over to his house table, eyes blazing.

Hermione and Harry looked at one another and shrugged. They both knew that if anyone knew what to do to calm the Slytherin brood it would be their sometime leader, Draco. They could not hear what he was saying, but they watched as, with quick insistent gestures, he dressed the rabble down soundly. It wasn't long before the raucous noise stopped and the cowed faces of the mutineers showed definite signs that Draco had gotten through to them.

After every Slytherin was once again calm and occupied with his or her supper, Draco moved to sit with Crabbe and Goyle, who thinking themselves in the know, gazed self-importantly around them.

Meanwhile, Harry and Hermione found a place at the Gryffindor table with great difficulty. Their fellow Gryffindors may not have been as loud as the Slytherins in their protestations against what they had just witnessed, but they were determined to make their feelings known. So, with one accord, they turned their backs on Harry and Hermione huffily every time they tried to seat themselves.

Ron, who was sitting with Neville Longbottom and Seamus Finnigan, was watching the scene quietly, his face unreadable.

Finally, Ginny Weasley and her boyfriend Dean Thomas grimly hailed Harry and Hermione over to their side of the table, and moved over to make room for them to sit. Gratefully, they dropped down beside their only remaining Gryffindor friends, and began serving themselves hastily. Each felt they wanted to leave as soon as possible.

"My," Ginny said under her breath jokingly, "tough crowd."

Hermione smiled a little and Harry threw her a profoundly grateful look. Dean didn't say anything, but looked apologetic as he passed Hermione the mashed potatoes.

"They'll get used to it, you know," Ginny continued airily. "You're just the latest fodder for the Hogwarts rumor mill. Don't worry; something juicier will come along that they can sink their teeth into soon."

Ginny's observation was meant to be reassuring, and Harry and Hermione greatly appreciated her desire to make them feel better. But, they could not help but feel that she was wrong. What could be more shocking than Hermione and Draco getting together…unless it was Harry and Draco becoming fast friends?

It seemed to both Harry and Hermione that they'd better get used to this kind of unpleasantness. They were probably in it for the long haul.


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

Draco, Hermione, and Harry had left the Great Hall after only a few bites to stave off hunger. They had wanted to retreat to the safety of the head's common room, leaving behind the accusing stares of their fellows as quickly as possible. There had been no more outbursts from the Slytherins, for Draco had successfully quelled their demonstrative ire. But, most other eyes that turned upon the three veritable outcasts were full to the brim with vast disapproval, showing itself in its varying ways: hatred, disgust, indignance, and confusion. The only friendly glances they caught were those of Ginny and Dean, who pretended to be oblivious to the high tension in the air.

With a sigh of relief, Hermione slid through the portrait hole, with Draco and Harry following close behind her.

"Well, I'm glad that's over!" Harry said, blowing his tension out with the next breath.

"Yes," Draco replied grimly. "I have a feeling we'll be holing up quite a bit in here from now on."

He gave a small dispirited wave around the room. Hermione hugged him, letting her head rest on his chest and sighed again. Draco's arms slipped around her.

"I don't suppose we can expect them to understand," she said resignedly, without looking up.

"No," Draco and Harry agreed, mirroring her tone.

Then they stepped down into the common room proper. Draco and Hermione continued to hold each other consolingly, while Harry went to the fire to find his own comfort.

Just then a popping sound broke the melancholy silence, and the small wrinkled form of Dobby the house elf appeared. He was a most comical creature, wearing a mismatched assortment of hats, socks…and a very bright purple tunic to finish the eye searing effect.

"Dobby!" Hermione exclaimed, disengaging herself from Draco to greet the house elf.

"Yes, Miss," Dobby squeaked, bowing and scraping subserviently. "Dobby has come."

Dobby turned his large blue orbs of eyes upon Harry and a wide smile spread across his funny little face.

"Harry Potter!" he said, bobbing up and down again in abject obeisance.

"Hello, Dobby," Harry said with genuine affection. "How are you?"

Dobby rushed forward, looking amusingly official.

"Dobby is fine, Sir," he said, waving away what he seemed to consider an unimportant inquiry. "Dobby has come with an important note for you, Sir…and for Miss," he said turning briefly to Hermione, "and for Mr. Malfoy, as well."

For a moment Dobby's eyes fell reproachfully on Draco. The sight of his former cruel master's only son did not engender in him any good feeling, it was plain to see.

Draco nodded formally at his former servant regretfully, and stepped forward in greeting.

"You know me, do you not, Dobby?" Draco asked quietly.

He was careful to speak very respectfully.

"Yes, Sir," Dobby replied, bitterness crossing his out of proportion features.

"My family and I have not been very kind to you, have we?" Draco asked, by way of stating his case frankly.

Dobby looked surprised at such a question, his eyes going even larger and filled with mistrust, lest he fall into any trap Draco might be laying for him.

Slowly, Hermione and Harry stepped up, one on each side of Draco.

"It's all right, Dobby," Harry encouraged the frightened elf.

Hermione nodded and laid a hand on Draco's arm supportively.

"Go ahead and answer," she said softly.

Dobby looked at her pleadingly. Then he folded his hands together and lowered his head, but not before the three friends saw a large tear roll down his very lined cheek.

"No, Sir," Dobby whispered.

Draco was respectfully quiet for a moment, so as to give Dobby time to collect himself.

"Well, Dobby," he said finally, "I wish to apologize for all that the Malfoy family did to make your existence so miserable."

At this point, Draco put his hand out, offering to shake Dobby's hand as a show of good faith.

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely.

Dobby's head shot up, and he looked so shocked that it seemed to Harry that he might faint, so he surreptitiously moved behind the small, shaking figure to catch him if the need arose.

But, the elf only stumbled backwards, his mouth dropping open.

"Draco Malfoy is apologizing to me?" Dobby's normally high squeak went even higher still.

One of his work worn hands swept up and came to rest over his heart.

"Yes, Dobby, I am," Draco said with firm resolve. "And I wish I could do more to make it up to you."

Draco was still proffering his hand, and slowly, with a very bright smile, Dobby took it with his own and shook it delicately.

Hermione and Harry were, by this time, grinning from ear to ear.

"Now Dobby," Draco said officiously and clearing his throat. "You said you had a message for us…"

"Oh, yes, Sir!" Dobby replied, his manner turning crisp but still pleasant.

He pulled a folded piece of parchment out of his tunic with a flourish and handed it to Draco.

"It is from Headmaster Dumbledore himself!" he said proudly, nodding his head. "Said it was very important, he did, Sir!" Dobby said, exaggerated gravity in every word.

Draco exchanged amused looks with Harry and Hermione before retuning his attention to the house elf, who was practically wriggling with excitement.

"Thank you, Dobby," he praised. "You have done well."

Dobby looked pleased.

"Shall I wait for a reply, Sir?" Dobby asked hopefully.

Harry smiled at his eagerness.

"That won't be necessary, Dobby," he said with an amused tone. "We will call you if there is any answer."

Dobby looked crestfallen.

"Of course, Harry Potter, Sir," he muttered.

Then he looked up eagerly again.

"Shall I wait outside the door then, Sir"?

"No, Dobby," Harry said more firmly. "You can go."

Harry was still smiling.

"Yes, Sir," Dobby sighed, unhappiness in every line of his face.

He bowed to Draco, Hermione, and Harry in turn. Then, with a snap of his fingers, he was gone.

The three friends burst into merry laughter, and Hermione threw herself into Draco's arms.

"That was good of you, Draco!" she enthused.

Harry nodded, remembering the day he had helped Dobby get free of Lucius Malfoy. If Lucius' treatment of his house elf that day had been any indicator of Dobby's general treatment, he certainly had deserved Draco's apology.

"Very decent of you," Harry said with a grin.

Draco smiled in answer.

"Now, let's see what 'important' message Dumbledore sent by our intrepid house elf," he said laughingly.

Draco handed the letter to Hermione, and he and Harry crowded around her as she read aloud.

_Dear Harry, Draco, and Hermione:_

_I am writing to let you know that your bravery this evening in the Great Hall did not go unnoticed. Facing the reviling of your fellow classmates was no easy thing, I am sure. But, when you remember that your sufferings are a part of the Grander Scheme, I hope your battered hearts are eased._

_Do not be tempted, in any event, to confide your true purposes to anyone outside of the those who all ready know about them. (Some burdens are best to be borne by just a few.) You must not try to justify yourselves, only keep your peace, for silence cannot be misquoted._

_That being said, I wish to also inform you that I am hearing rumblings of new and ominous developments in the Enemy's camp. I will keep you informed as to the pertinence of these supposed developments to your particular mission._

_Remain alert and ready._

_Most Sincerely,_

_Dumbledore_

For a moment there was silence, as Hermione let the hand holding the letter fall limply to her side, and a look of disquiet crossed her face.

"What do you suppose these 'developments' could be?" Harry asked, looking puzzled.

"I don't know," Draco said, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. "But, I'll wager this is no small thing if Dumbledore felt he needed to warn us like this."

"No," Hermione said.

Her voice faded away, as she lost herself in thought.

"Well," Harry finally said. "One thing is sure. The incident in the Great Hall tonight doesn't look so bad, when we know it's possible Voldemort is plotting something."

Draco sat up in his seat a little taller, and fixed his gaze on Harry and Hermione.

"Yes," he said, "I'm fairly sure that whatever it is _he's_ getting up to will make that look like a little bit of nothing before it's all said and done."

Hermione nodded, her eyes wide.

Shortly thereafter, Harry left for his own quarters, and Draco and Hermione began cleaning up the tea things before bed. They were both exhausted. It had been another long day in what was a now a string of long days.

"Thankfully, tomorrow is only Sunday," Hermione said, stifling a yawn. "Perhaps we can finally get caught up on our rest…and our homework!"

"Yes," Draco replied as he levitated the tea cups onto the tea tray. "I think we could all do with a break in the action. I just wish I didn't have that meeting with Crabbe and Goyle tomorrow night."

Hermione stopped straightening cushions on one of the couches to give him a sympathetic look.

"Yes, so much for Dumbledore's insistence that you rest this weekend," she said in somewhat embittered tones.

"I know, love," Draco appeased, sensing a lecture coming on, "but I have to go through with the meeting. I'm supposed to be eager to flaunt my new status as a Death Eater!"

He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, and Hermione laughed.

"Well, I can't think of a single reason why you wouldn't be simply bursting at the seams to tell them all about it!" she said with mock seriousness.

But, there was a playful twinkle in her eye. Draco, following her lead, set the tea tray down and pretended to think.

"Well, there's this girl I know, and I really care about her…"

Suddenly, he was no longer joking.

"But, I understand she doesn't like the Death Eater crowd…" he finished spiritlessly, as he eyed his shoes for a moment.

When he looked up at Hermione again she saw that his eyes were pained. Hermione's heart ached as she walked over to him, her face softened by understanding. She took his face in her hands, and gazed at him tenderly.

"Then it is a good thing your not _really_ a Death Eater," she whispered lovingly.

Then, taking his hand, she led him toward his bedroom…their bedroom.

"Leave these things, love," she said, softly commanding. "We'll finish tomorrow."

Draco followed her without question. And, for about the millionth time since she had admitted her love for him, he thanked his lucky stars for her. Only she understood the pain he was in and the irresistible need for reassurance that he wasn't really what the sinister Mark on his arm represented him to be. Her love had stood between him and the terrible destiny that he'd never really wanted, nor asked for. Now, her love reminded him of who he really was, even in the face of all evidence to the contrary. It didn't matter to her that he was Lucius Malfoy's son, or that his family had served the Darkness for generations. She _knew _the real Draco Malfoy and believed in him without reservation. And, deep inside, he knew one day his mind would be fully persuaded of the truth about himself, because she was helping to get there by giving herself unconditionally to him…By trusting him with her heart, she was, in a very real sense, setting him free to live up to his true identity. Hermione, the embodiment of all things right and good in his judgment, loved him. What greater motivation was there?


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

The next morning dawned dark and cloudy, and Draco and Hermione had no heart at all to go to the Great Hall for breakfast. Neither one of them thought they could stand a repeat performance of yesterday's collective outcry by their fellow classmates against their relationship.

As it turned out, Harry must have been thinking somewhat similarly, for he showed up at their door shortly after they awakened, looking decidedly unsettled.

"I just couldn't go to breakfast this morning," he mumbled, hands in his pockets, eyes down. "I hope I'm not bothering you."

Hermione wrapped her arms around him, and Draco slapped him on the back with rough affection.

"You're always welcome here," Draco said sincerely. "Thanks for sticking by us."

After a lovely breakfast, which the eager-to-please Dobby brought to them at their request, Draco, Hermione, and Harry settled down for a peaceful Sunday of rest and study. With their minds occupied, and no one to bother them, or remind them that they were embroiled in a school "scandal", the three thought very little about it.

It was pleasant to pretend that outside the portrait hole door lay a benign, nonthreatening world that they could reenter if they so chose, without fear of retribution.

They laughed and told stories and had a generally good time, when Hermione wasn't driving Harry and Draco to their studies, like the hard task master she could be.

"Oh, come on, Hermione!" Harry whined with more than a touch of irritation, when she reminded her men for the third time of their transfiguration exam on Monday.

Draco and Harry had got up a game of football using one of the small, squishy pillows off the couches as the ball. They had been bollixing about for fifteen full minutes, laughing and red in the face with exertion.

Draco, who had the most tackles, gave Hermione his most convincing look.

"Just a few more minutes, love, then we'll be putty in your slave driving little hands, I promise," he said with an engaging grin.

Harry nodded eagerly.

"All right," Hermione agreed grudgingly, as she picked up her transfiguration text with a sigh. "But, _only_ a few more minutes," she said, eyeing them through her reading glasses and looking every bit like the cutest little owl Draco had ever seen.

As it happened, "a few more minutes" stretched on and on to half an hour, and Hermione's protests got more and more insistent. Finally, she threw up her hands in defeat.

"If you want to fail your exam, I guess there's nothing I can do about it!" she said loudly, trying to make herself heard over all the hooting and hollering.

Then, she got up and stomped toward her room, feeling fed up.

The men immediately dropped what they were doing, and looked at her, contrition on their very red and sweaty faces. They were just like two little boys who had been caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar.

"Sorry, love," Draco said, quickly going to her to make it up.

"Sorry, Hermione," Harry echoed, looking appropriately chastened.

Hermione eyed them critically for a moment.

"Well, all right then," she said magnanimously, as she pecked Draco's offered cheek.

The two naughty boys and their school marm were headed back to the couch and their books when they heard a sharp rap at one of the mullioned windows in the kitchenette.

The three friends spun around to address the noise, and their eyes fell on the outline of a large jet black owl perched on the stone casement of the window, outlined by the dim, grey late September day.

As the three advanced to the window they noted that the owl seeking entrance was very large and very black indeed. He was sharp eyed and majestic in his bearing, and, at the moment, he was preening himself in a leisurely manner, suggesting the he was in no hurry to complete his assigned delivery.

Draco was the one who pulled the old iron framed window open and spoke to the bird in low, familiar tones.

"Do you know this owl?" Hermione asked, surprised.

Draco looked grim.

"Yes," he said, his lips barely moving. "It's Dionysius, my father's owl."

As if he knew his own name and took it as a cue to get on with his mission, the great owl lifted his leg patiently while Draco removed from him Lucius' note.

"Your father is taking quite a risk sending you a message by his personal owl, isn't he?" Harry asked carefully.

Draco looked as though a war was waging inside him.

"He doesn't often send anything," Draco replied bitterly. "The last time he sent his personal owl was three years ago. And it was a different bird. He had not acquired Dionysius yet."

Harry and Hermione exchanged a quick, meaningful glance. It was clear Draco did not expect his father's communication to be pleasant.

Without another word, Draco unrolled the small bit of parchment and read it first to himself, while Harry and Hermione looked on.

Draco's face was quite a study…going from passively angry to furious, as his eyes quickly scanned Lucius' letter.

Harry and Hermione stayed silent as they patiently waited for Draco to finish.

"Is it bad?" Hermione asked timidly, as Draco rolled the parchment up again with quick, angry movements.

Harry's gaze was locked tensely on Draco's face. He did not answer, but clumsily shoved the roll into Hermione's hand and strode back to the window to tend to Dionysius.

Hermione hastily pulled the letter open again. She and Harry beheld Lucius' elegant rolling script. They read silently to themselves.

_Draco,_

_I cannot tell you how overjoyed I am that you have finally joined me in service to our lord and master. I spoke to him briefly after you departed with Severus, and he is most pleased with the initiative you've taken in getting near that little mudblood, Hermione Granger. He has high hopes that this, your contribution to the effort, will be quite significant. I am sure I do not need to tell you how proud I would be if my son were to bring down Harry Potter, our great enemy, almost single handedly. _

_A word of advice on handling the mudblood…I've been informed that you are quite the sought after lady's man at Hogwarts. Why don't you turn your considerable charm on Ms. Granger? She is female, and like all the others may not prove immune, if you apply yourself. Or, perhaps you have all ready thought of it?_

_Normally, I would never ask you to sully yourself with someone as base as she, but I think you'll agree that, as unpleasant as the task may seem, it is worth it to achieve the results our lord is looking to obtain._

_Severus has informed me that Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle are aware of your work. Lean on them, Draco. I am sure they will do anything you ask of them. They are just like their respective fathers, born to follow. You know how to handle them._

_I believe that soon the Dark Lord will be summoning all of us for another meeting. Word has it he is planning a show of his power soon. Be ready against that time._

_Father_

Hermione and Harry finished reading at the same moment and both of them would have been hopping mad, except that the final part of the letter had been like a cold splash of water, effectively dousing their joint fury.

While the two were reading, Draco had found some old owl treats in the kitchenette and had put them and small bowl of water on the ledge. He was stroking Dionysius as the great bird finished his refreshment, when Harry and Hermione quietly stepped over to him. It was apparent Draco was still very angry, and Hermione, who knew him best, also detected the hurt in his eyes.

"He's an arrogant bastard!" Draco choked out hoarsely, now petting the snacking owl, rather more roughly than was expedient.

This treatment caused Dionysius to stop eating long enough to give his benefactor an offended look, as if to say, "Watch what you're doing, mate!"

Draco's hand dropped guiltily to his side, and he shook his head petulantly. He did not look at Harry or Hermione, but walked away from the window, his eyes dark with fury.

"I mean who does he think he is, talking that way about you!" he bellowed, spinning around angrily to eye Hermione.

"Don't let it get to you, Draco," Harry said calmly. "Unfortunately, he's not capable of anything else. You know that."

"Yes, I know it!" Draco said, as if raging against the truth would ease his turmoil.

Hermione moved toward him, her arms outstretched.

"Darling, I'm sorry," she soothed, as she wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head against his shoulder. "Don't mind what he said about me. I assure you I'm fine. We both know how your father feels about me. It doesn't matter to me, really!"

Draco lifted her face to his and gazed at her sorrowfully.

"Don't you see, Hermione? It matters to me," he whispered. "I love you."

"I know," she answered softly. "And, I am grateful that you love me and hold me in such high esteem. But, we cannot lose sight of the 'Grander Scheme', as Dumbledore calls it."

She gently put a hand to Draco's face, and probed his eyes deeply with hers.

"Your father's letter contains yet another warning of the evil that is afoot, and I think you should tell Dumbledore about it right away."

Harry, who had stepped back to a discreet distance to give Draco and Hermione some privacy while they dealt with Lucius' insufferable written remarks, now returned to them, nodding purposefully.

"She's right, Draco."

Draco turned to Harry and was immediately struck by the steely look in his eyes.

"The day may come very soon when you'll deal with all your father's wrongdoing. But, right now you've got a job to do."

At Harry's words, Draco felt the iron enter into his soul. His mouth set in a grim line, he clutched the letter in his hand and headed straight for the door, with Harry and Hermione following closely behind.

Just as they reached the portrait hole, Draco abruptly stopped in his tracks. His right hand flew to his left arm spasmodically, clutching at the very spot where the Mark was buried under his shirt sleeve. Draco let out a gasp of surprise and pain and turned to Hermione and Harry, a feverish, pained look in his eyes.

Hermione, realizing what was happening, lifted her hand to her mouth, her eyes like saucers.

"Draco!" she whispered through her fingers, looking terrified.

Harry, who had been standing behind Hermione and had had his view of Draco obstructed, was lost to the situation.

"What is it?" he asked, his eyes darting from Hermione's frightened face to Draco's pained one.

In answer, Draco hastily rolled up his sleeve to reveal the Mark. It had darkened perceptibly and there was a definite sinister gleam emanating from it.

"He's calling me!" Draco said, trying to keep his voice even.

For a moment, the three stood rooted to the spot before the door, unable to think. Then, Draco leapt into decisive action. He thrust the letter at Harry, his face a mask of unnatural calm.

"Harry, you and Hermione take this to Dumbledore. Show it to him and get any information out of him that you can," he said commandingly.

"Right," Harry nodded, snatching at the parchment. Draco began rolling his sleeve down and buttoning it closed absently.

"Snape will be here any minute to collect me," he murmured to himself, as he ripped his cloak from the coat rack.

Just as he did so, Snape's insistent knock came at the portrait hole door. A moment later the good Professor, looking as much as ever like a big black bat, was sliding into the room.

"Are you ready, Draco?" he asked darkly, his black eyes snapping impatiently.

Draco nodded grimly. Then he turned briefly to Hermione, who was trying to hide the fright attempting to engulf her.

"I'll be back," he whispered, as he kissed her quickly.

She caught his eye meaningfully for one brief second.

"I'll be here," she whispered, swallowing hard.

And then he was gone.

Hermione continued to stare at the portrait hole long after the last of Draco's cloak had disappeared behind the door, unable to move. It wasn't until she felt Harry's anxious hand on her shoulder that she realized she had been holding her breath. She gasped for air and turned, to smile nervously at her friend.

"Are you all right?" he asked softly, observing her closely as though he feared she would suddenly faint.

Hermione only nodded, a strange, forced smile on her face. She did not attempt to speak.

_Is this the way I'll feel each time the Dark Lord calls Draco away?" _she questioned herself numbly.

Harry, not knowing what to do, tried to lead her to the couches.

"Maybe you should sit down a moment, Hermione," he said, his voice calmly coaxing. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"No," she forced out.

She was recovering herself a bit…remembering Draco's instructions.

"Thank you, Harry," she said.

Harry was glad to see that though she was shaking, her voice was getting stronger.

She turned and headed back to the door, her eyes blazing with purpose.

"You heard what Draco said. We must go to Dumbledore…"

Harry began to protest that she looked quite pale still. But, she only stamped her foot and shook her head stubbornly.

"Now!"

Harry nodded, letting any further protests die on his lips.

She had made up her mind, and he knew better than to argue with her.


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

Draco found himself once again trailing behind the churlish, black clad Professor Snape through the many dark and hidden passageways to the same hidden, enchanted door they had been through only two nights before. Had it really only been forty-eight hours since he'd taken the Mark? It seemed like a life time ago, so much had transpired since.

Draco noted, with grim dissatisfaction that Snape still felt they needed to move through the night like they were being chased.

But, having once before been this route, he felt confident to let his feet go on autopilot, while he contemplated the meaning of this upcoming meeting with the Dark Lord. He thought it very interesting that he had received a letter from his father only moments before his Mark began to burn. How much did his father know? And, more importantly, what was it all about? One thing was certain, it wasn't anything so harmless as…what… a surprise party for Voldemort's birthday…Draco chuckled mirthlessly at the thought of the Dark Lord wearing a brightly colored party hat, and eagerly pawing through party favors.

"What's so funny, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape cracked out menacingly.

"Nothing, Sir," Draco said wiping a lopsided smile off his face...not that Snape could have discerned his expression in this inky darkness.

"I think we must be prepared for a fairly big announcement," Snape continued in clipped tones.

"What do you suspect it's all about, Sir?" Draco asked, not really expecting a satisfactory answer.

"I do not know, Mr. Malfoy," he growled. "But, I think we've all sensed something was coming ever since the Azkaban breakout. I, for one, didn't expect it to come so soon, though."

Draco and the potions master were moving along at an even faster pace as they neared the dark and forbidding edge of the Dark Forest. Draco rolled his eyes at the remembrance of how hard the trek through the brambles and tangled underbrush had been the night of his initiation.

As it turned out, for some reason, the trip was not as difficult as he remembered. Perhaps he had gotten used to it. At any rate, it seemed no time at all before they had arrived at the spot Snape deemed appropriate for disapparating.

"Take my arm, Draco," Snape said punctiliously

Draco obeyed immediately and they were off, with the same crushing, squeezing sensation taking him in its hands and wringing him out. This time Draco landed on his feet at the end of the ride. It gave him a strange sense of accomplishment.

Looking around, he realized they had come to the same spacious clearing ringed around by the extravagantly tall trees, who seemed to be keeping out unwanted observers like sentinels on duty. The eerily greenish half light cast an ominous glow upon the other black clad Death Eaters who moved about like so many black, cumbersome beetles, murmuring amongst themselves excitedly. It was apparent that they were looking forward to their Lord's announcement.

Looking to the front of the evil gathering, Draco saw Lord Voldemort's silver, velvet draped throne, and he couldn't suppress the shiver that rippled through him. Phantom pains shot over him as his mind paid homage to the excruciating pain he had endured only two nights prior.

"Draco."

The smooth, calculating voice of Lucius Malfoy penetrated Draco's musings.

Draco turned, keeping his movements deliberately slow and controlled. His face was emotionless as he beheld the cruelly pleased face of his father.

"Father," Draco returned respectfully, slightly inclining his head.

Lucius moved smoothly toward his son, placing something bulky in his hands, with careful reverence.

"Put this on," he said imposingly and without further explanation.

Draco lifted the object into the light. It was the skull-like Death Eater's mask. He tried to look pleased at his father's unwanted gift. He put it on without examining it, being very much afraid his revulsion would show too plainly on his face.

Lucius looked infinitely satisfied.

"Come, Draco. Stand beside me," he said as he swept Draco away toward the front of the group awaiting Lord Voldemort's arrival. Draco sincerely hoped Snape was right behind them. He did not wish to be surrounded by his father and the other Voldemort devotees should the situation go awry and require a quick exit. To his immense relief, Snape appeared on his right, while his father occupied his left.

The Death Eaters behind them were now quieted down. The sense of eager anticipation in the air was palpable. All eyes were to the front, so no one missed the form of Lord Voldemort slipping gracefully out from behind a cadre of very large, very imposing Death Eaters, his personal guard. He did not address his now absolutely silent followers until he had proudly ascended to his thrown. His face was slightly more animated than the first time Draco had laid eyes on him, but he still looked as menacingly aloof and unapproachable. He was once again wearing a black robe, but it was of a more dense material and conservative cut than what he had worn two nights ago. It almost looked like a priest's cassock, except for the deep purple cape that cascaded from his thinly corded neck to the heels of his black leather boots.

"My friends," he rasped, with a graceful, all-encompassing wave of his arms. "You have been summoned for a very specific purpose."

Draco noted that Lucius shifted excitedly in his place, making his son roll his eyes heavenward, despising his father's obvious display of fanaticism. Draco was glad, for the first time, that his expression was hidden under the Death Eater's mask.

"You see," Voldemort continued coldly, "I have been planning a little display of power designed to keep the venerable ministry of magic on its toes."

Draco heard Snape clear his throat quietly at this point, as the Dark Lord paused for effect. The silent fervent curiosity of the Death Eaters could be tangibly felt in the air.

Then, Voldemort's eyes went very hard as he spoke again.

"In two days hence, I will expect all Death Eaters to descend upon King's Cross Station for a bit of a confrontation with our esteemed Enemy," he rasped out, his eyes roaming over the company imperiously.

There was a soft eruption of anticipatory murmuring throughout the group. Draco felt his heart pounding almost out of his chest.

_What on earth could this mean, _he thought frantically.

Voldemort seemed to be enjoying the effect of his announcement upon his audience, for he sat back on his throne gazing appreciatively at the quiet uproar for several moments.

Finally, he raised his hand for silence. He was obliged immediately.

"The rest of this meeting will be spent in planning for the attack," Lord Voldemort continued icily. "We want to be sure we are at our best when the Dark Wizard Catchers arrive…don't we?" he hissed, smiling evilly, eyes alight with maniacal mischief.

Low wicked laughter rumbled throughout the assembly.

One hour later, Professor Snape and Draco were racing through the Dark Forest, having apparated just outside the magically protected school grounds a minute before.

Draco was in such a hurry to get back to Dumbledore and Hermione with the evil tidings, that he barely noticed the stolid resistance the impossibly thick and grasping undergrowth was giving him.

Snape had said nothing since they'd begun the return trip home. Draco knew the professor was going over the meeting in his mind, trying with all his might to remember every minute detail. Draco decided that it was a worthy cause and began to do the same. Holding his wand up higher to spread a wider beam of light before him, he continued on while rehearsing mentally everything he had seen and heard.

Meanwhile, Harry and Hermione had carried out their assigned duty. Dumbledore had read Lucius Malfoy's letter with great interest. And, now he sat with his hands steepled and resting against his lips, looking gravely thoughtful. Harry and Hermione, their gazes locked on the lined face of their headmaster, tried not to wriggle impatiently in their seats.

For several minutes, the warm room was silent except for the homey crackling of the fire in the grate, and the soft, lilting singing of Fawkes, Dumbledore's beautiful scarlet and gold plumed phoenix, who was perched regally in his corner by the door.

Finally, the professor let his gaze rest on the two messengers before him. He jumped a little in surprise, giving the definite impression that he'd just realized there were others in the room.

"Yes, well," he began, recovering himself quickly. "There can be no doubt that we have quite a situation on our hands, I think," he said, waving the letter about gracefully. "First, this letter, and then the summons of Draco and Professor Snape shortly thereafter…"

His voice trailed away, as though he might become lost in his own thoughts again.

"Yes, that's what we thought, too, Professor," Harry affirmed, looking to Hermione, who nodded encouragingly. "Tonight's events coupled with whatever news you've been privy to…"

Harry left his statement unfinished, hoping Dumbledore would fill in the blanks.

"Yes, Sir," Hermione continued eagerly. "Maybe you could tell us a bit about what you've heard?"

She left her question boldly hanging in the air.

"Well, Harry…Hermione," Dumbledore smiled, eyes twinkling knowingly. "I'm afraid there's very little else I can say," he paused. "I could, I suppose tell you what I suspect might be the case…"

Harry and Hermione snatched at this dangling carrot like starving rabbits.

"Oh, yes, Sir!" they cried in union.

Dumbledore smiled again, his eyes laughing at their insatiable curiosity.

But, the next moment his mouth was a grim line, his eyes somber.

"I think the obvious answer is that Voldemort is planning an attack of some sort."

Dumbledore thoughtfully rubbed at his chin with one finger.

"The thing is I can't help but believe that there's something else happening here," he said, looking mildly frustrated.

"Why would you think that, Sir?" Hermione asked, moving forward quickly in her chair.

Harry stared at his mentor questioningly.

"For one simple reason," Dumbledore answered mildly, "there's been too much information leaked out about this."

"What do you mean, Sir?" Harry asked, obviously looking for elaboration.

"Well, just this…I'm very used to bits of helpful information on the Enemy's activities falling into my hands now and then," he said, looking suddenly pensive, "but, with this particular event, it seems to me that there is too much evidence being just given away to us."

Dumbledore thought a little more. Then, he began again, tentatively, slowly.

"Too many people seem to know about this attack. I've heard from no less than four people about it…and that is quite a few informers, when you think about how tight security has been in the Dark Lord's camp in the past. It's almost as if Lord Voldemort wants to be sure his enemies know exactly what he is about to do."

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, eyes wide with sudden fear.

Just then, there was a loud, frantic rapping at Dumbledore's office door. Fawkes, who had continued his melodious singing throughout the preceding conversation, stopped abruptly.

"Come," Dumbledore intoned pleasantly.

Harry and Hermione turned in their seats just in time to see Professor Snape and Dumbledore, both of them wild eyed and out of breath, burst through the door.

"Gentlemen, what's the news?" Dumbledore asked calmly.

Snape and Draco moved as one man toward Dumbledore's large, dark wood desk. Draco nodded curtly at the potions master, therefore electing him spokesman on the spot. Then, he stepped back to stand beside Hermione's chair.

"Professor Dumbledore, it is as we feared," Snape began, his breath coming in ragged pulls. "Voldemort is planning an attack..." He paused here to catch his breath. "We have less than two days to prepare!"

Hermione gasped and reached up for Draco's hand. He looked down at her reassuringly, and then locked eyes briefly with Harry, before returning his full attention to the two professors.

"Give me the details, Severus," Dumbledore replied in quiet weariness.

Everyone in the room sensed it was going to be a long night.

An hour later, Professor Snape, with Draco's frequent helpful interruptions, had laid out the whole sordid tale, along with the details of the plans made that night. Only then did the potions master consent to sit down and drink the tea Hermione had magicked up, while trying to listen intently.

Professor Dumbledore, seemingly intent on getting every detail right, questioned Snape and Draco for several additional minutes after the story had been told.

Then, he stood abruptly and turned to the large and heavy cabinet behind him.

"I think we must begin making our own plans now," he said, firmly in command. "First off, I think we will need a map of King's Cross station," he said, quickly finding a large atlas of England. "It would be well if we knew the lay out of the battle ground."

Everyone in the room nodded agreement, as Dumbledore laid the book open to the appropriate pages. Then mumbling a spell he jabbed gently at the map, and lifted his wand into the air above him. Immediately, the map materialized clearly, so that everyone present could read it easily.

"I think we should look for appropriate hiding places for our people," he said easily.

"How many Death Eaters do you estimate we will be facing, Severus?" he asked, turning to Snape inquiringly.

Snape looked briefly at Draco before answering.

"Voldemort made it clear that he wanted all Death Eaters present, so I would say there will be a couple of hundred at least," he said darkly.

"Hmmm," Dumbledore said meditatively. "The ministry does not have that many Aurors on hand, do they?"

"Not to my knowledge," Snape answered quietly. "But, we have at least that number of members in the Order."

"That we do, Severus," Dumbledore answered with a solemn nod. "But, I believe we had better estimate high, don't you?"

He did not wait for Snape's answer.

"We will, in my estimation, need to call upon Dumbledore's army to fight in this battle," he said firmly, letting his gaze rest on Harry, Hermione, and Draco. "You will fight with us, will you not? That is if I can convince the Ministry officials of the need?"

Yes, sir," the three said firmly.

"Of course, Draco and I will not be able to fight in the open, Professor," Snape reminded the headmaster. "We will have to practice some subterfuge, I'm afraid, if we are to continue in our capacity as spies for the Order."

"Yes, of course," Dumbledore said evenly. "But, as you have seen on the map, there are plenty of places within which you could hide yourselves, only engaging when the heat of the battle was directly before you."

Draco tore his eyes away from his professors to gaze at Hermione for a moment. Yes, he would definitely want to be at the battle, even if he could not fight openly. It would tear him apart to be left behind wondering how the conflict went. Especially since he knew Hermione would never agree to stay behind with him. She would be compelled by her courageous spirit to be there, no matter what the cost.

He looked at Harry now, and saw that his eyes were as hard as flint as he listened to the discourse. Harry would not be left behind either; not on any account. Even if the Ministry refused to have Dumbledore's Army participate, Harry would find a way to be there. Draco could not doubt it.

He was so lost in his own thoughts that he did not hear Dumbledore address him. As a result Hermione gently squeezed his hand to bring him back to himself.

"Draco," the professor was saying, "I must have your word that you will remain well hidden, if I am to feel comfortable with the decision to let you be at the confrontation."

Dumbledore eyed Draco over the rim of his glasses.

"You will only do what you can from your hiding place. Is that clear?"

Draco looked steadily at the venerable old wizard.

"Yes, Sir," he answered without hesitation.

Dumbledore observed his Head Boy for a moment more, and then nodded, seemingly satisfied with Draco's firm answer.

"Good," he said, obviously preparing to turn to other things. "Now I will ask you to leave me to contact the ministry with this information. I will procure their permission to prepare Dumbledore's Army to join in the fight. I should hope to have secured said permission by early morning, at which time I will ask you to contact those members of the D.A. which you believe would be most useful. Then we will have a final planning meeting with them in attendance. It is quite possible that Mr. Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister of Magic, will also be here to represent the Ministry. And, I will ask Arthur and Molly Weasley to come, so that they can inform the other Order members of our plans, as well."

Dumbledore looked at his three students officiously.

"You may go now. Try to get some rest. You will wish to be fresh for the fight!" he said forcefully, but with a smile on his wizened face. "Oh, and do not discuss anything we have talked about with anyone else just yet. Do you understand?"

Dumbledore peered at them meaningfully.

Draco, Hermione, and Harry nodded, and left their seats to head for the door.

"Good night, Sir," they said together.

And with a polite nod in the direction of Professor Snape, they left the two professors to continue their planning session.


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

Draco, Hermione, and Harry found themselves standing once more outside Dumbledore's office after yet another tension filled discussion with their esteemed headmaster.

Slowly, as though in a dream, Draco took Hermione's hand and helped her onto the turning spiral staircase. He then stepped on behind her, with Harry at his heels.

No one spoke as the enchanted stair corkscrewed slowly downward. Each of the three was thinking his or her own private thoughts.

At last, Harry broke the silence.

"We've only tomorrow to prepare…" he said softly, pulling his wand out of his jeans pocket and examining it thoughtfully.

Draco and Hermione kept their silence as the three dismounted smoothly to the flagstone floor.

"Well," Draco responded, "I suppose one never really can prepare for something like this anyway."

"No," Hermione concurred, "not really."

She and Harry shared conspiratorial smiles, which Draco immediately understood.

"The two of you have all ready seen similar action, I know," he said, smiling knowingly.

"Quite a bit, actually," Harry said mildly, without a hint of arrogance.

"We're old pros, I guess you could say," Hermione laughed, squeezing Draco's hand affectionately.

"Ron is, too," Harry said softly, eyes full of melancholy.

Tears sprung to Hermione's eyes. Harry's mentioning Ron brought a flood of memories, both good and bad to her mind. But, she smiled bravely, as Draco wrapped an arm around her consolingly.

"Well, who knows?" she said over brightly. "Perhaps this little battle will be the thing to bring him around."

Harry looked at her as though he had very little hope on that score.

"Maybe," he agreed unconvincingly, dropping his gaze to his shoes.

Hermione fired up immediately. Leaving Draco's warm embrace she moved to take Harry's hand in both of hers.

"Now you listen to me, Harry James Potter!" she began, unconsciously imitating the formidable Molly Weasley in one of her rants. "We're not giving up on Ron! Not now, not ever! He _will_ find his way back, that is certain! And we'll be there when he does, to help any way we can!"

Draco noticed, with some consternation, that Harry looked miserably disbelieving.

Hermione lifted Harry's face to hers with one hand and fixed him with a fiery glare.

"Ron will come back to us, Harry!" she cried emphatically, even as tears coursed down her cheeks. "You just mark my words!"

Harry stared into Hermione's eyes and saw such conviction there that he could not help but be convinced she was right. Hermione had always been a force to be reckoned with when she'd set her mind to something. If anyone could believe something into being, that person was definitely this girl before him, with the blazing eyes and the defiantly stubborn expression.

Draco put an encouraging hand on both Hermione's and Harry's shoulder, trying to add weight to Hermione's words.

Harry looked at his friends appreciatively, and then slowly nodded his head.

"All right," he agreed, this time with more conviction.

A few minutes later, the three friends arrived at the Head's common room, still sober but feeling their burdens had somehow lightened.

"Are you coming in, Harry?" Hermione asked, taking Harry's arm affectionately.

Draco looked at Harry expectantly.

"No," he said, smiling. "I think I've taken up quite enough of your time today."

"Nonsense!" Draco replied with a grin. "We've got battle plans to discuss…"

"No, really, thank you," Harry returned, feeling glad to be wanted. "But, I think I'd like to be on my own for a while anyway."

He turned to go, much to Draco and Hermione's chagrin, then stopped and addressed his comrades again.

"I might come back when Draco goes to meet with Crabbe and Goyle…" he said, looking for permission to return.

"You do that!" Hermione said, beaming. "I'll be glad of the company."

Draco clapped Harry on the shoulder, and smiled his approval.

"O.K.," Harry said happily. "See you then."

Then he turned on his heel and quickly departed. As Draco watched him go, he shook his head sadly.

Hermione caught Draco's gesture, so as soon as Harry had turned the corner at the end of the corridor, she looked at him with question marks in her eyes.

"What is it, love?" she asked.

Draco looked at her, quietly contemplative.

"Oh, I just feel sorry for Harry, that's all," he said.

Then he murmured the password and stepped aside for Hermione to enter their rooms before him.

"Why?" Hermione asked as soon as Draco came in behind her.

Draco smiled at her innate curiosity.

"I believe he's lonely, my love," he said, gently caressing her cheek.

Hermione pressed his hand for a moment, closing her eyes and kissing it lovingly.

"He misses Ron, I expect," she said as she turned away slowly and headed to the window seat, kicking her shoes off on the way.

"Yes, I know," Draco answered. "But, that's not exactly what I meant."

"All right, dearest," she said, patiently smiling as she wrapped herself in her throw blanket, and curled up against the multicolored pillows. "What do you mean, then?"

"Well, Harry doesn't have what we have, does he?" Draco asked looking a bit surprised at Hermione's lack of discernment into Harry's heart and life.

He then stepped out of his shoes, too, and went to join Hermione in her favorite spot.

"I'm sorry, dearest. I see what you mean now," she answered, feeling sorry for her oversight. "No, he doesn't," she continued, a quietly saddened look on her face," and I don't think he will for some time."

Draco studied Hermione for a long moment.

"And why is that?" he said thoughtfully. "I mean, he's Harry Potter, isn't he? He must have droves of women interested in him."

"I suppose," Hermione said with a heavy sigh. "But, unless I'm very much mistaken, there is only one woman he is truly interested in."

Draco had perched beside Hermione's wrapped up, cozy form, his knees bent, arms wrapped around them.

"Who is it?" he asked interestedly.

"Ginny Weasley," Hermione said with a touch of grief in her voice.

Draco looked nonplussed.

"But, I thought he broke it off with her last year," Draco said. "Why would he do that if he still cares for her?"

Hermione gazed penetratingly at Draco.

"For the same reason that you considered leaving me, my love," she said, her eyes softly pained. "…to protect her."

Draco felt as if someone had struck him.

"Well, that's just rubbish!" he countered feelingly. "He obviously doesn't feel that way now, or he wouldn't have advised me the way he did!"

Hermione was playing with the fringe on one of her pillows absently, and remembering how difficult a time Harry and Ginny had both had with the break up. She had talked to both of them, and had seen the reality of their heartbreak. It had not been a pleasant sight.

"No, he's come to a better understanding of the truth since that time, it's true," Hermione said sadly. "But, it's too late. Ginny is with Dean now. She's moved on."

Draco sighed.

"Well, that is just incredibly sad!" he said, his sympathy for Harry deepening every moment.

"Yes," Hermione agreed softly. "I think if he had it to do over, he'd do it differently."

She paused to shift a pillow behind her back.

"After all, I think he realizes now that Ginny and her family are as invested in this war as he is. Lord Voldemort has plenty of reason to go after any one of the Weasleys, without taking into account their relationship with Harry. For instance, Arthur Weasley works for the Ministry and makes no bones about his opposition to the Dark Lord."

Draco nodded thoughtfully, his countenance downcast. He wished very much that he could do something to help Harry.

"Well, perhaps Ginny and Dean will not last," he said, feeling faintly hopeful at the thought. "Harry might have another chance, then."

He paused for a moment, smiling lovingly at Hermione. He let his mind shift subtly to their own relationship.

"I know one thing," he said, moving to take her onto his lap, and wrapping her blanket cocooned body in his arms, tightly. "If Harry and Ginny are meant to be together, they certainly will be. I mean, if the fates can bring us together, love, they can do anything!"

This last was whispered fervently, his eyes deeply probing hers.

Hermione instantly felt lost in the intensity of his gaze. She knew he was right. Their's was an uncommon love…so uncommon that it could only have been destined from the foundation of the world.

As she contemplated this revelation, Hermione let a soft, tender smile play over her lips.

"I love you," she breathed, all her heart's desire in the words.

Draco felt his heart skip a beat at the rawness of her statement. He knew she was hiding nothing from him. She trusted him completely.

"I love you, too," he answered, as he gently stroked her hair back from her lovely face.

Then, Hermione's fingers reached into his soft platinum mane and tangled themselves in it almost desperately. And, her eyes grew dark with sudden smoldering passion.

"I'm yours," she whispered emphatically, pulling him down and pressing her soft, full lips to his in a passionate embrace.

Draco felt as though he might explode, as white hot desire coursed through him. He groaned softly when he felt her mouth opening to him, thus deepening their all ready intoxicatingly intimate connection.

Soon they were wholly lost in each other.

As time and space fell away, all other cares disappeared. And, they were free to create their own all encompassing world of love and light and pure joy. Wanting only to know and be known, they took their time exploring one another.

And, when release finally came to them, it was as if the heavens opened up and rejoiced, celebrating with them the depth, the strength, and the divine beauty of their love. The very powers that be began raining down on them their most heart felt blessing.

A little while later, after many declarations of faithful and unending love had passed between them, great peace enveloped them, and they fell gently asleep in one another's arms.

It was 8 p.m. when the lovers awoke, feeling completely refreshed and at peace.

Dobby was only too happy to bring them their supper in their rooms, and it was a happy affair. Draco and Hermione laughed and played as if they hadn't a care in the world. They even had a rather rowdy food fight.

They had learned in these trying times to take each day one moment at a time, and to never rush headlong into the future, no matter how pressing it might seem.

When Harry arrived at the common room at 9:30 p.m., it was to find Hermione still in her thick, pale pink, terry cloth robe, and trying unsuccessfully to remove from her chestnut curls, no small amount of dried and flaking mashed potatoes.

Draco was in his room, getting ready for his appointment with Crabbe and Goyle.

"I'll bet your opponent looks worse!" Harry said laughingly, as he reached out to wipe at some gravy dripping down her shoulder.

"Oh, never mind!" she said in mock exasperation, while she headed to the coffee table to grab her wand.

"Scourgify," she said off-handedly, pointing at herself.

Immediately, all traces of potato and other food remnants were gone.

Harry was still guffawing as he looked around at the mess.

"Looks to me like you and Draco will need another supper," he said teasingly. "You can't have gotten anything down. It's all over the room!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, but laughed, as well.

"It was one of Dobby's meals, Harry," she said meaningfully.

"Oh, well, in that case," he replied in mock seriousness, "he must have brought up half the school stores just for the two of you."

"You're not far off, I think," Hermione giggled.

Just as Harry and Hermione had finished the cleaning and were tucking away their wands, Draco came out dressed and ready to play the role of the consummate Slytherin. He was dressed all in black with only his emerald green and silver house tie adding any color to his ensemble.

"Harry,"

Draco greeted Harry with a handshake and a subdued smile.

"Draco," Harry returned, mirroring the tone his friend had set.

It was clear that Draco did not want to go, but was determined to do his duty. He kissed Hermione quickly and headed for the portrait hole.

"You two have fun," he said with a small smile. "I'll be back soon."

With a last wave, he slipped through the portrait hole and was gone.

Harry turned to Hermione, who looked faintly apprehensive.

"It's all right, Hermione," he said confidently. "It's only Crabbe and Goyle."

Hermione smiled, feeling a little more relaxed, and the two took their places on the couches to talk while they awaited Draco's return.

As it turned out, Draco's absence only lasted about an hour, at which time he returned with all speed to regale Hermione and Harry with the story of his rather uneventful adventure.

He had not enjoyed having to put on his, "Draco Malfoy, Prince of Slytherin", act but found he was still able to do it relatively easily.

Crabbe and Goyle, had, as predicted, been terribly impressed by Draco's Mark. They were obviously jealous of his new position. Even though he described every gory detail of the after effects of the evil potions involved, they still expressed that they couldn't wait for their own turns to come.

Draco said nothing of his recent summons to the Dark Lord, at first…Or, of the evil plan he had revealed at the meeting. But, each of them had received communications from their respective Death Eater fathers, intimating that something was afoot. Remembering his father's admonition to "lean on" Crabbe and Goyle for help, and hoping to bind them to him more closely by appearing to share confidences, Draco divulged what he knew of the Dark Lord's attack plans. He had hoped, against hope, that they would have some helpful information to share with him, but it soon became clear that neither Crabbe nor Goyle had anything further to contribute.

Finally, amidst many promises of loyalty and help with anything Draco asked of them, Draco took his leave.

"You know," Draco reflected wearily shortly after his return to Harry and Hermione, "I can't help but compare my life now with what it was just a short time ago."

He took a sip of tea and looked appreciatively at them.

"Spending time with Crabbe and Goyle, seeing them with my new eyes and from my new perspective, only heightens my desire to get as far away from that old, dark life as I can."

He shivered a bit.

"I can imagine," Harry murmured darkly.

Hermione, who sat next to Draco, her head resting on his shoulder, took his hand and squeezed it in affirmation.

"Well, do you suppose Dumbledore has spoken to the Minister of Magic by now?" Harry asked, changing the subject.

"I can't imagine he hasn't," Hermione answered, moving to put her tea cup on the table.

Draco shrugged.

"Whatever the case, I'm betting tomorrow morning will bring with it the Ministry's permission for the DA to participate in the battle. Dumbledore's right," Draco said firmly. "This will be too big an attack for the Ministry to handle on its own, even with the Order of the Phoenix helping. They will need all the manpower they can get."

Hermione nodded emphatically the whole time Draco spoke.

"You're probably right," Harry agreed, yawning. "And speaking of tomorrow, we'd all better get some rest."

He put his tea cup down and stood up to stretch.

"I'm fairly sure that when Dumbledore says 'early morning', he means it!" Harry joked, his green eyes twinkling.

Draco and Hermione chuckled as they walked Harry to the door.

But, the mood suddenly became heavy again, as the three said goodnight. They knew in their hearts that they were soon to embark on a dark and dangerous journey together. When next they saw Harry, Draco and Hermione were sure that it would be in Dumbledore's office.

And they would be receiving final instructions before facing a most menacing foe.


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

Harry's little joke turned out to be all too accurate. Dobby the house elf, as energetically deprecating as ever, popped into Draco and Hermione's common room at precisely 5:30 a.m. to alert them to Dumbledore's summons.

Bleary eyed and yawning, Hermione opened the bedroom door to the funny little caricature of an elf, who, having knocked, was now frantically bouncing up and down with characteristic overexcitement.

"Dobby!" Hermione cried, squinting at him in response to the light hitting her sleep sensitive eyes.

"Yes, Miss!" Dobby squeaked, as he bowed low. "The Headmaster has sent me. He wishes to see you and Mr. Draco right away!"

Dobby's eyes were more protuberant than usual, so great was his agitation.

Hermione was wide awake now, her face resolutely determined.

"Right," she said. "Thank you, Dobby. Have you spoken to Harry yet?"

Dobby nodded emphatically.

"Oh, yes, Miss. Harry Potter has been informed." he said, a broad toothy smile spreading over his wrinkled face.

"Good," Hermione praised. "You may go and tell Dumbledore we're on our way."

Dobby bowed once more, snapped his fingers and disappeared.

Hermione did not have to wake Draco. He was all ready up and dressing hurriedly.

"It's time," he said, slipping on his robe in one smooth motion.

It was not a question.

"Yes," Hermione answered, grabbing her own clothes and throwing them on.

A quarter of an hour later, Draco and Hermione found themselves knocking at Dumbledore's great oak office door. Their Headmaster's customary response of 'come' was heard over several softly muttering voices. So, the two were not surprised to see the warm and cheerful room filled to capacity upon their entrance.

Sitting at his desk, as usual, was Dumbledore, wearing deep green robes, a large tea service and a plate of luscious looking rolls before him. Behind him, looking grave but purposeful stood the darkly clothed Professor Snape and the tartan clad Professor McGonagall. Seated beside the wise old wizard was the impressive figure of the Minister of Magic himself, Mr. Rufus Scrimgeour, his tawny leonine mane of hair highlighted by the flickering of the firelight. His "official" appearance was furthered by his fashionably cut royal blue robes, but seemed incongruously separate from his craggy, battle scarred face, and quick, amber, cat like eyes.

As Hermione's and Draco's eyes took in the rest of the room's inhabitants, they noted that Harry and Ron had all ready arrived, along with Ginny. Arthur and Molly Weasley were also present, seated behind Harry, Ron, and Ginny, looking somewhat rumpled, as though they had come in a great hurry.

Silent greetings, in the form of nods and subdued waves, were exchanged between the newcomers and those who were all ready in place, and Draco and Hermione took two comfortable chairs reserved for them beside Harry, and just before Professor Dumbledore's laden desk.

Dumbledore stood up gracefully, straightening his robes as he did so, and smiling around the room cordially.

"Good morning," he began, his voice weary but strong. "I think we will begin our meeting now. Please feel free to avail yourselves of the tea and rolls at any time," he said indicating with his hands, the food and drink before him.

As no one moved to fill a plate, he continued, not missing a beat.

Turning slightly, he inclined his head respectfully toward Minister Scrimgeour.

"I am pleased to say that Mr. Rufus Scrimgeour, the Honorable Minister of Magic, has consented to be with us this morning, and will be addressing us shortly."

Mr. Scrimgeour, obviously pleased by Dumbledore's flattering introduction, stood and bowed officiously to all in the room and with a flourish of his robes sat back down.

The niceties having been observed, Dumbledore assumed a businesslike demeanor, placing the tips of his long fingers on his desk top and leaning on them gently.

"As you all are aware, tomorrow morning Lord Voldemort is planning to send out his Death Eaters to attack at Kings Cross Station. We are gathered to finalize our own plans to counterattack."

Everyone nodded. Not one person in the audience was not giving Dumbledore his or her absolute attention.

"Last night, the Minister and I met along with Professors Snape and McGonagall, to discuss the influx of information each of us has been privy to, and to decide what to do in response."

Dumbledore paused for a moment, clearing his throat.

"Here is what we know or have surmised at this hour. The attack is to take place at 8 a.m. tomorrow morning…just the time of day when the station would likely be filled to capacity with commuters, and those taking long day trips, requiring an early start. We expect there to be thousands of unsuspecting muggles, as well as some wizards to be present. So, these Dark Wizards will have plenty of targets on which to focus. They have been exhorted by the Dark Lord to wreak as much havoc, and do as much damage as they possibly can. They are to show no mercy and to drive the death toll up as high as possible."

Hermione's eyes filled, as she thought of the many innocent children who might be there, as well. Mrs. Weasley gasped, her face blanching, as her husband shook his head gravely and mopped his face with a handkerchief. Harry and Ron only stared resolutely at the floor.

Dumbledore gave his audience a moment to reign in their reactions before pressing on.

"I can see that I needn't impress upon any of you the seriousness of this situation," he continued, eyeing them all pointedly. "It becomes even more serious when we take into account that our informants have estimated that their will be between 200 and 225 Death Eaters conducting this attack."

Again, the group reacted with shocked gasps and terrified faces.

"Good heavens!" Arthur Weasley piped up, standing up in his extreme agitation. "That many? Are you sure, Dumbledore? That implies that this will be a massive attack…an open show of power…unlike last year with the collapsing bridge and the hurricane!"

Dumbledore, seemingly unfazed by Mr. Weasley's outburst, turned his full attention on the distraught wizard.

"Those are the numbers we've been given, Arthur. And you are right, we are talking about a very open show of power," he countered quietly.

He turned back to the rest of the group to continue.

"Unfortunately, the Ministry cannot match those numbers at this time, without disrupting other important work. Many aurors are out on special assignment and cannot be pulled out to help without compromising some very key missions. And, even with the addition of available Order members, our side still comes up somewhat short of the requisite number. So…"

The Headmaster turned now to behold Harry, Ron, Draco, Hermione, and Ginny with serious eyes.

"…Minister Scrimgeour has agreed that we must ask the organization called Dumbledore's Army to join in the fray."

Harry did not even look at his comrades as he stood up, knowing that they had all purposed in their hearts to do all they could to stop Lord Voldemort in his wicked pursuits.

"We'll be happy to help," he said unflinchingly.

Dumbledore nodded and smiled gratefully.

"Good. And I thank you all on behalf of myself, the Order, and the Ministry," he said, beaming, as he looked to Minister Scrimgeour for his reaction.

Scrimgeour stood smilingly and shook Harry's hand zealously, after which they both sat down, giving Dumbledore the floor once more.

"Minister Scrimgeour and I have decided that only those members of the D.A. who are 16 years of age and older should join us. So, I would like the four of you to come up with a list of possible trustworthy and capable candidates you can approach with the offer of fighting with us."

Harry, Ron, Draco, and Hermione nodded agreeably.

"You will need to choose wisely and quickly, for time is obviously of the essence. All those agreeing to join us will be excused from classes today in order to prepare."

At this point, the Headmaster turned to Harry again.

"Harry," Dumbledore fixed his eyes on his protégé.

"Yes, Sir," Harry answered, jumping up again.

"I suggest you call a meeting in the Room of Requirement as soon as possible, and run the D.A. through all the spells and curses you know they've all ready mastered. Teach them very little that is new." he admonished. "We do not want people trying to perfect new spells on the battlefield. It's too dangerous."

"Yes, Sir," Harry agreed.

"And, speaking of spells and the use thereof," Dumbledore said, turning once more to the Minister. "Mr. Scrimgeour would like to go over the rules of engagement for tomorrow's battle…Minister?"

Dumbledore stepped aside, giving the Minister center stage.

Minister Scrimgeour stood up, and took his place before the desk, setting his face in very austere lines as he did so.

"Ladies in Gentlemen," he began in a deep, gravelly voice, and with an almost courtly bow. "I am most pleased that all of you have decided to come to the aid of the Ministry, and, indeed, of all the Wizarding community itself," he began, doing his best to catch the eye of everyone in the room. "I, too, wish to thank you ahead of time for your excellent service and assure you that the Ministry will forever be in your debt, no matter how everything turns out tomorrow."

The room was absolutely silent for a beat before the minister continued.

"I know you all understand that the Enemy will not spare any tactic to win this battle decisively. As you have heard, Voldemort has commanded his Death Eaters to show absolutely no mercy. He has trained them to be absolutely ruthless, and has instilled in them a fear of consequences should they not give him the results he expects of them."

Scrimgeour paused, nervously clearing his throat.

"In short, we are facing an Enemy that will not go down easily. There will be heinous acts committed at Kings Cross tomorrow…there can be no doubt. Therefore, it is my decision and my command that everyone who steps out onto the battlefield tomorrow morning be prepared to use whatever means necessary to protect themselves and those other innocents who are nearby at any given moment."

The Minister looked around the room, his countenance determined.

"I am authorizing all who participate in the routing of the Death Eaters at the Station to use any and all curses and spells that will aid in this venture, up to and including the Killing Curse." he said, his voice rising with passion.

The reaction around the room was one of incredulity. Everyone began talking at once in high, exited voices.

Scrimgeour raised his hands for quiet.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, if you please," he interrupted. "You cannot be surprised by this announcement, surely! You have all heard what we will face. I assure you there is no other way for us to level the playing field, if you'll excuse the expression."

Draco and Hermione looked at each other disbelievingly, and then caught the gaze of their Headmaster, who nodded at them solemnly, confirming his agreement with the Minister. Snape and McGonagall, too, were nodding their approval at this turn of events.

It was clear that the others in the room had seen Dumbledore's subtle concurring reaction, too, for everyone began to settle down again, as Scrimgeour waited patiently.

"Friends," the Minister began again in low tones, "we must remember this is war. Unfortunately, war means death and destruction to many, many innocent people. We must use every means given us to minimize that toll."

Harry was staring at Scrimgeour's shoes, jaw set, nodding his agreement.

Scrimgeour eyed the group for a moment, looking for all the world as though he might explode.

"You must settle it in your minds and hearts right now that you will kill if circumstances warrant it. For, the Killing Curse is only effective if the caster is fully persuaded about that."

At this, the Minister's visage became very earnest, indeed.

"Let yourselves be convinced that you are fighting for the best possible cause."

He pointed at the crowd impressively.

"Know this, and let righteous anger rise up in your very hearts!"

The Minister paused again, his face reddened, hands shaking slightly.

"You are fighting for no less than the rightful freedom of the Wizarding and Muggle worlds. Do not let that fact escape you for one moment! Today, as you prepare, think on what the world would be like were Voldemort able to crush his resistance and come to full power over all. For, mark my words, he will settle for nothing less!"

All eyes were glued to the intense face of the Minister. No one dared make a sound.

"Think on it," he said, lowering his voice to almost a tortured whisper. "and I know you will find that you no longer have any qualms about using the Killing Curse or any other spell necessary to keep that evil despot from achieving his ends."

The room was so quiet; it ran shivers down Hermione's spine. It was clear everyone was wholly engrossed in contemplating the Minister's provocative and fiery speech.

After a few minutes silence, Dumbledore stepped forward again, as Minister Scrimgeour retreated quietly back to his seat.

Without a word, the Professor, holding the book of maps containing the Kings Cross Stations lay out, before him, tapped the appropriate pages with his wand. Immediately, several copies materialized on top of the book.

"Harry," Dumbledore said, carefully lifting the maps off his book and handing them to him, "I wish for you and your friends to distribute these to those you choose to join us. You will find that I have marked the strategic hiding places that must be occupied by our people. You will note, further, that some of the spots all ready have names on them. You will decide which of the D.A. members will occupy the spots marked 'D.A.', and place the names appropriately. If you find you do not have enough members for all the spots, leave them blank. When you return a copy of the filled in map to me, I will peruse it and try to fill the rest of it in before tomorrow. All right?"

"Yes, Sir," Harry said, taking the maps and handing them over to Hermione.

Hermione quickly put on her reading glasses and began studying the parchments right away.

"Now," Dumbledore said, addressing all of his students, "I suggest you all begin recruiting members as soon as possible. You'll want as much practice time as you can get."

He strode, at this point, over to Arthur and Molly Weasley with his maps and handed them several.

"These will give you the Order members' positions, as well. I assume you can get them to the appropriate people?"

"We will start now," Mrs. Weasley said, putting the maps in her carry all, and straightening up to go.

Dumbledore left them with a smile of appreciation.

As Minister Scrimgeour and the Weasley's headed to the fire place to avail themselves of the canister of floo powder on the mantle, Professor Dumbledore headed over to Draco and Hermione purposefully.

"Can you wait for a moment after everyone has gone? I've something to discuss with you," he whispered.

"Of course," Draco said, wonder in his eyes.

Meanwhile, Harry, Ron, and Ginny were heading to the door. Harry turned to Hermione and Draco with a questioning look.

"Are you coming?"

"Professor Dumbledore wants to speak to us," Hermione said lightly. "You go on ahead to the Great Hall and begin compiling a list of candidates. Draco and I will be there soon."

"All right," Harry acquiesced with a smile. "See you later, then."

Ginny waved, Ron scowled, and the three headed out the door.

Soon, there were only the three professors, Draco, and Hermione left in the room. Draco noted vaguely that the tea tray had not been touched, nor the buns either, as he retook his seat. Hermione sat down beside him, and both of them waited to hear what Professor Dumbledore had to say.

Dumbledore, having just seen off the Minister of Magic, lowered himself wearily into his large plush desk chair with a sigh. Professors Snape and McGonagall still stood behind him, as if they were playing Lieutenants to his General.

"I feel I am getting too old for all this hub bub," he joked, looking tired.

Then he turned an appraising gaze on his Head Boy and Girl.

"Draco…Hermione," he said, his face giving nothing away. "I have a favor to ask of you."

"Yes, Sir?" the two responded, their nervousness evident.

Then the professor turned his gaze on Draco, who immediately sensed he wasn't going to like what Dumbledore had to say.

"Draco, Minister Scrimgeour and I have been talking about how to maintain proper security at the Ministry while almost every Auror is at Kings Cross tomorrow…and we've made a decision, which concerns you."

Draco maintained a placid expression, but inside he was instantly fearful. Surely Dumbledore wasn't about to really ask him to…

Dumbledore read in Draco's eyes his consternation.

"Yes, we have decided that you, along with Professor Snape, will stand guard at the Ministry tomorrow."

Draco jumped out of his chair.

"But, Sir!" he began, in angry protest.

Dumbledore only raised his hand, apparently unperturbed.

"Believe me, Draco, it's best this way. Both you and Professor Snape are working for the Order as double agents. Any information you may be able to get while operating in that capacity could be invaluable to bringing the Dark Lord down. We do not wish to jeopardize that, do we?"

Dumbledore was regarding his Head Boy over the rims of his glasses now, a light, but no nonsense smile on his face.

"No, Sir," Draco answered miserably.

He chanced a look at Hermione, whose face was sympathetic but set.

Dumbledore who had seen the look that passed between them, looked sympathetic, too.

"Draco," he said softly," I know you would much rather go to battle along side Hermione…"

Draco gave the Headmaster a small melancholy nod and lowered his slightly rebellious gaze.

"That is completely understandable, but this type of thing is also a part of war."

Professor Dumbledore sought to lock his eyes with Draco's, and finally Draco could avoid his gaze no longer. He looked up.

"Sacrifices must be made," the professor said, emphasizing every word.

Draco fought not to look down.

"…for the good of all."

For a fraction of a moment, Professor Dumbledore and Draco stared at one another---Dumbledore's face, the picture of quiet resolve…and Draco's, full of internal struggle.

He knew Dumbledore was right, from a tactical sense. But, in his heart, he honestly didn't know how he was going to let Hermione go to Kings Cross without him.

Just then, Hermione reached across and took Draco's hand to squeeze it comfortingly. Slowly, he turned to her. He saw in her eyes a firm resolve. In that moment, he knew she agreed with Dumbledore.

"It's all right, Draco," she whispered, her voice gently convincing. "It's best. You know it is."

Draco felt a flash of anger at this inevitability. His eyes mirrored his emotions for a split second and then, fast on anger's heels, came quiet, peaceful resignation to duty.

He smiled a small smile at Hermione and returned her hand squeeze, before turning back to Dumbledore.

"Yes, Sir," he said, his voice strong. "I will be happy to go to the Ministry with Professor Snape, if you believe it the best plan."

Dumbledore's smile was almost beatific. He approached Draco and Hermione and laid a long, gentle hand on each of their shoulders firmly.

"That is good news," he said, relief in his voice, thanks in his eyes.

He turned to Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall, still smiling. McGonagall beamed happily. But, Snape looked disinterested, even bored, as he addressed Draco.

"I will come to your rooms at 6:30 a.m. tomorrow to collect you, Draco," he said smoothly. "Be ready."

Without waiting for Draco's assent, he turned once more to Professor Dumbledore.

"If there's nothing else, Professor…" he said coldly.

"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore replied, ignoring Snape's less than friendly manner," I think we are finished here."

Snape inclined his head in an outward show of respect that did not reach his sour visage. Then, he quit the room at top speed, with his usual cloud of black robes streaking behind him.

Professor McGonagall could not completely suppress the urge to roll her eyes.

Dumbledore's smile never left his venerable old face. He seemed completely undisturbed by Snape's sudden exit. But, Draco and Hermione were left wondering if the potions master ever left a room in a less dramatic manner.

Dumbledore chuckled, his eyes twinkling merrily, as if he had read their minds.

"I think Harry is waiting for you," he hinted broadly.

"Yes, Professor," the two said, as they bolted from their seats.

And with a nod to Professor McGonagall, which she returned curtly, they were out the door themselves.

The next moment, Draco and Hermione were headed down the cork screw stairwell. They moved as quickly as they could; taking the steps two at a time. There was a sense of urgency growing in each of them. They did not speak of what had just passed in Dumbledore's office. All their focus was upon preparation. Time was of the essence, and it was slipping away at a fast and furious pace.

Tomorrow morning was fraught with destiny, either for good or ill. And it would be here before they knew it.


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 38

It was 6:45 a.m. by the time Draco and Hermione got to the very sparsely populated Great Hall. Harry, Ron, and Ginny had all ready compiled a list of fifteen possible recruits to approach about joining tomorrow's conflict. Neville Longbottom, who seemed not at all bothered by Draco's appearance alongside Hermione, was sitting with them, having all ready agreed to fight. He had also offered his services in contacting the others.

For a few minutes, the six comrades brainstormed, wishing to expand their list to at least twenty willing, able, and trustworthy members. They soon exceeded their own expectations by thinking of a total of twenty-seven.

Harry, pleased with this outcome, tore the list in fifths, thereby assigning his friends more or less five people to speak to, with Draco and Hermione working together to allay any suspicion regarding Draco's loyalties.

"Right," Neville said, his voice businesslike, "How much should we reveal about the mission to our prospects."

Those who had attended the meeting in Dumbledore's office looked at each other, wondering the same thing, themselves.

Finally, Hermione spoke, somewhat uncertainly.

"Well, I think it might be best if we give them a fairly accurate picture of what they will be facing. I'd want each person to be able to make an informed decision," she said, slowly, tentatively.

Draco nodded.

"Yes, I think that's about right," he agreed, firmly. "We don't want people joining the battle thinking this will be a walk in the park. They might freeze up when they see how difficult it will really be."

At this point, Ron pretended to cough into his hand to cover a contemptuous snigger. Everyone at the table knew he was loathe to hear anything Draco had to say.

For a moment, Draco regarded Ron, challenging him with his eyes. Ron met this gaze with his own provocative, narrow-eyed expression.

Then Hermione slid her hand on to Draco's leg under the table and gently squeezed. He knew, without looking at her, that she was reminding him that this was no time to let Ron bait him into another fight, verbal or otherwise.

But, look at her he did, noting her restrained smile. He noticed, too, Harry's nervous expression, and immediately dropped his gaze to the table. He did not look at Ron again, thereby missing his decidedly triumphant expression. It was apparent, to everyone else however, that Ron believed he had somehow cowed Draco, and was exceptionally proud of it.

Harry, disgusted by Ron's childish behavior, made a mental note to have a word with him after everyone had gone off with their lists.

"Hm, Hm,"

After a few moments uncomfortable silence, Harry cleared his throat to recall everyone to the business at hand.

"All right, then," he said, "I believe Hermione and Draco are right. It would be best to let everyone know the truth. So, be truthful, but don't embellish."

Everyone but a red-faced Ron nodded, as they began gathering their things to leave.

"And, get your lists back to me as soon as you can, with the names of those agreeing to fight checked off," he continued, over the general busyness of his cohorts. "We will all meet in the Room of Requirement by 9 a.m., so be sure to tell your people."

The group broke up without further conversation. Everyone but Ron and Harry headed immediately to the doors, lists in hand. Draco took Hermione's hand easily as they walked.

"That was close," Hermione murmured under her breath. "I thought Ron was going to blow up at any moment," she said, regarding Draco out of the corner of her eye.

"So did I," Draco answered through clenched teeth, walking a bit faster as they reached the exit.

Hermione stopped him as they stepped into the corridor.

"Thank you," she whispered, gazing directly into his eyes, "for being the bigger man and refusing to engage him."

Draco smiled and gently stroked her cheek.

"You're welcome," he answered lovingly.

His eyes became slyly smoldering, as he pulled her a bit closer.

"You don't suppose we'd have time for a little visit to our tapestry hiding place, do you?" he whispered in her ear huskily.

Hermione pulled back gently, took his hand, and with a "come hither" look in her eyes, lead him away toward that very destination.

Two hours later, the would-be recruiters made their way to the Room of Requirement having made contact with everyone on their lists. Fortunately, they had found that all but two were eager to go to Kings Cross to fight the evil Death Eaters, thus adding thirty-one to Dumbledore's over all list, including Harry, Ron, Ginny, Neville, Draco, and Hermione, themselves.

Harry looked over the lists with satisfaction, as his accomplices beamed proudly.

"Good," he said happily. "More people than I'd counted on took up the gauntlet. And, they are all skillful fighters, as well." He looked at his accomplices with fire in his green eyes. "Dumbledore will be pleased."

Then, he got up and headed for the door, folding the lists carefully into his school bag.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," he said purposefully. "All of you might want to get the room ready for the meeting. I think we'll start with stunning spells…"

With that, he stepped out of the room, leaving the rest of the group to prepare for an intensive, all day practice session.

The room was unchanged from the last time the D.A. had made use of it. It still suited the needs of the group perfectly, with plenty of floor space for practice, and a mini library full of useful tomes on spells and tactical magical fighting, which covered one entire wall. In one corner there stood a large shelving unit containing several large pillows for use during the practice of spells causing the target to fall. The room was sparsely furnished otherwise, with only a large wooden conference table set just before the library, and a group of comfortable navy blue plush chairs before the fire, presumably for restful moments.

Mere moments after Harry left, the new recruits began to arrive. Among them were Parvati and Padma Patil, Seamus Finnagan, Dean Thomas, Luna Lovegood, and Ernie McMillan.

No one spoke, greeting each other with solemn nods, as some pulled out the big pillows for practice in stunning, and others went to the extensive wall library and began extracting the necessary reference books.

It seemed everyone knew their business and were determined to be about it.

Harry returned not 10 minutes later and started the meeting without further ado.

"Good morning," he said in firm but friendly tones. "We all know why we're here, so I won't waste time reiterating. I do want you all to prepare to spend the whole of the day and most of the night here, if necessary. We've got a lot to do."

He paused briefly. Everyone nodded enthusiastically, which made Harry smile with amusement.

"Dumbledore has arranged it with the kitchen that we be given our meals here. So, buckle in, people, we're here for the duration…Let's begin."

The rest of the morning was spent on stunning spells, as Harry had planned. Everyone involved was so involved in what they were doing that they hardly noticed when the house elves appeared with lunch. It wasn't until stomachs started growling with hunger that anyone thought of stopping.

Shortly after 3 p.m., Dumbledore appeared to inform the group of a last minute development. His exhausted, but resolute expression caused everyone to hurry to sit at his feet, apprehensively anticipating bad news.

Their Headmaster did not disappoint them.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began quietly. "I am sorry to say that a few moments ago I was informed, by my trusted sources that more Death Eaters than we originally thought will be at Kings Cross tomorrow."

Dumbledore sighed heavily, as his listeners looked at each other apprehensively.

"The new estimated number with which we must contend is 225 to 250 Death Eaters," he finished softly.

There was not a face in the room that didn't register shock. Not a voice remained silent, as a wave terror went through the room.

Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, talking over the melee.

"This development greatly increases the odds in the favor of the Enemy, without doubt. You did not sign up to fight under these even more dangerous circumstances. So, I have come to offer each of you the opportunity to bow out of this fight gracefully, if you so desire."

The Headmaster paused again, letting his statement sink in.

"I will not ask you to declare yourselves in or out, right now. If you are not present when we meet in the morning, no one, and I mean no one," he said forcefully, "will ever say a word to you about it."

With this, Dumbledore surveyed the room, his blue eyes snapping slightly.

"For those of you who are still willing to join us, we will be meeting here at 6:30 a.m. You will be traveling by portkey to Kings Cross Station at 7 a.m. sharp. That should give you plenty of time to find your spots before the attack is scheduled to begin at 8 a.m."

Dumbledore's face seemed even more lined than usual, even though he was smiling slightly now.

"That is all I have," he said, speaking more lightly. "Happy practicing!"

And with an encouraging glance in Harry's direction, to which Harry nodded respectfully, Professor Dumbledore swept through the door elegantly.

For a short moment, Harry let his glance rest on Draco, Hermione, and Ron, before he turned to the rest of the group to speak.

The recruits looked more than a little shell shocked at the news.

"The odds don't look good for our side, it's true, but I, for one, am still in this for the long haul," he said with quiet determination, his eyes hard. "Because this battle must be fought, no matter what the odds…no matter what the personal cost."

Slowly but surely, everyone in the room seemed to come to life. Some were even nodding agreement, eyes alight.

"Agreed," Draco said meaningfully, looking at Hermione, and moving to stand near Harry. "Now, let's get back to work."

Hermione went immediately to Harry's other side. And, Ron, face noticeably "scowless", followed right behind her.

Silently, and slowly at first, the others got up and made their way over to Harry, until they were all standing clustered tightly around, looking firmly decided to stand with him.

Harry, recognizing that he was being given a unanimous vote of confidence as the leader of this little group, fought back tears manfully.

"All right," he said, trying to sound commanding, "let's move on to shielding charms."

And, everyone scurried to do his bidding.

The rest of the afternoon and into the night, the group worked, loathing any interruption so mundane as meals and bathroom breaks. As the night wore on, weariness set in, but still they continued on.

Hermione, knowing how important it was to know the Enemy as well as possible before engaging him, spent a great deal of time reading up on Voldemort, his Death Eaters, and their likely tactics in battle. So that, after the practical part of the meeting was done, she was prepared to speak knowledgeably about her research. She was greatly gratified to see quills and parchments appear, to be busily put to use in recording the pertinent information.

Finally, at 9:30 p.m., Harry stood to address the troops one last time.

"Well, done," he said, his face weary, but grateful. "I believe we have prepared ourselves as well as possible."

At this point, weariness and emotion overtook him, and he could not keep the tears from standing in his eyes; nor could he keep his voice from cracking.

"I shall be proud to fight alongside each and every one of you!" he said hoarsely.

He took a shuddering breath, as Hermione gently came up behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"You are dismissed."

Slowly, reluctantly, everyone began packing up their belongings to leave. Many were teary eyed, as they passed by Harry on the way out. Some of them gave him a nod, a touch, or a quiet, "thank you".

Finally, only Harry, Ron, Draco, and Hermione remained.

For a moment, no one said anything. Somehow, each knew instinctively that silence would be the most comforting now…much more so than falsely ringing brave words. The four let the gentle quiet seep into them and smooth their ruffled and harried spirits.

This was the calm before the storm. The battle seemed so far off. It was enough to let the silence wash over them, chasing away all fear and doubt. All thought of the possible outcome of tomorrow's battle flew like a released bird from their minds. Even Dumbledore's unexpected news couldn't touch them.

After a bit, Harry wordlessly directed his companions to the group of comfortable chairs by the now roaring blaze. Then, he and Ron took their seats, each falling into their own reverie, heads resting on the cushioned chair backs. Draco quietly led Hermione to another seat, and pulled her into his lap. She laid her head on his shoulder comfortably.

Still, no one spoke.

One by one, the four felt the heaviness of sleep upon them, but no one moved to find his or her own bed. And, soon, eyes began to drop closed in dreamless slumber.

Silence was left to reign undisturbed until the morning.

Harry was the first to wake at 5:30 a.m., to the sound of Dobby magically popping in at the side of his chair. Dobby cradled in his long, thin arms, a large silver tray laden with breakfast for the four warriors.

"Dobby," Harry whispered in surprise. "How did you know we were here?"

"Dobby just knows, Harry Potter, Sir," the elf intoned with a sad smile.

Harry took in his elf friend's melancholy air and spoke kindly.

"And you brought us breakfast," he said softly, as he patted Dobby's wiry arm. "Thank you."

One large, shiny tear trailed down Dobby's cheek, as he gazed at the place where Harry had patted him. Then his golf ball sized eyes turned back to his idol.

Harry carefully took the tray from him and put it on the table centered amongst the chairs that held his blissfully unaware companions.

"Don't worry, Dobby," Harry said, trying to cheer him. "Everything will be all right."

Dobby smiled shakily, and with a nod and a half-hearted wave he snapped his fingers and was gone.

Harry sat for just a few minutes more, staring into the now dead coals in the grate, and wondering what Dumbledore was doing at that moment.

He felt cold suddenly without the blazing fire to warm the room. Looking at Ron in the gloom of the early morning, he saw that he was hunkered down in his chair, arms wrapped about him, apparently feeling the cold in his sleep.

Harry let his gaze travel to Draco and Hermione, cuddled up together in their chair and under Draco's voluminous black cloak. They looked so at ease together, he reflected, so peaceful. He hated to wake them to the brutal reality of war.

With a regretful sigh, he leaned forward.

"Draco, Hermione, Ron," he said softly. "Get up; it's time we were getting ready."

Harry reached across and shook Ron's leg. Draco and Hermione began to stir immediately at Harry's summons. But, Ron only tried to roll over in the chair, grumpily.

Harry smiled mischievously at the bleary eyed Draco and Hermione.

"Ron, breakfast is here!" he said in a dream-like voice. "Hermione's going to eat it all if you don't get up!"

Hermione scowled playfully, as Harry winked at her. Draco chuckled. Even he knew about Ron's voracious appetite.

But, Harry's little joke had its intended effect…Ron shot out of his chair, face indignant.

"What!" he rasped, swiveling his bushy red head around confusedly, eyes still puffy with sleep. "Hermione, save me some. I'm starved!"

His eye fell on Hermione, who was gleefully giggling at her friend's disheveled appearance.

Harry and Draco, in the meantime, were guffawing openly at the Ron's obvious distress at the thought of missing his meal.

Harry held the huge breakfast tray up and waved it under the self proclaimed starving man's nose.

"See, it's still here, Ron," he laughed. "We didn't let her eat it all!"

Ron eyed the full tray suspiciously, and then turned his glance on the tricksters, very much annoyed.

"Oh, bloody hell!" he cried, rolling his eyes dramatically. "That wasn't funny at all!"

The others just laughed all the harder.

"That my friend," Harry gasped, draping an arm around his best friend and leaning on him for support, "was hilarious!"

Ron only threw Harry off, and glared at his tormentors. Then he snatched a particularly, toothsome, fat, cream-filled roll violently from the tray, and biting into it viciously…spattered it all over his all ready very angry, red face…

…much to the heightened delight of his traitorous companions, who were now all but rolling on the floor with laughter.

Dumbledore, unbeknownst to the four inside the Room of Requirement, stood outside the door, with his hand poised to announce his presence with a knock.

Upon hearing the peels of carefree laughter bouncing off the walls inside, he let his hand fall to his side, an amused smile pulling at the lips that had uttered so much wisdom.

"Let them have a bit of fun just now," he murmured, chuckling. "I won't bother them and spoil the moment."

He sighed softly.

"The dark cloud will envelope them soon enough."

And, with a worried glance at the door, he glided soundlessly away, leaving his young warriors to a last bit of levity.


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

Twenty minutes later, the atmosphere in the Room of Requirement had become decidedly less frivolous.

Breakfast was over. Though nobody but Ron had been able to eat very much. And, Draco and Hermione were collecting their things in preparation to go to their own quarters.

Harry had just put his plate down, as the couple headed to the door. Ron was eating yet a last apple turn over.

"We'll see you in a bit, then," Harry said off handedly, giving his friends a perfunctory wave.

Hermione and Draco looked at one another incredulously. In all the excitement and busyness of last night, neither of them had thought to tell Harry about their conversation with Dumbledore.

"Actually, Harry," Draco started, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

Hermione bit her lip and squeezed her hands together fitfully.

"Yes?" Harry said, narrowing his eyes suspiciously, and walking toward them.

"Actually, I won't be there," Draco said in a bit of a rush.

"I knew it!" Ron shouted from behind.

All eyes turned to him in alarm. He was chewing furiously, and trying to talk at the same time.

"I new he'd find a way out of this!" Ron spluttered, little crumbs of his turnover spraying out of his mouth.

"Ron!" Hermione cried, glaring severely.

Ron hastily wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and strode toward Harry, Draco, and Hermione, a look of extreme satisfaction on his face. He pointed an accusing finger directly at Draco's face.

"He won't be there because he doesn't want to fight against his real boss, the Dark Lord, himself!" he bellowed harshly.

Draco's face was red, his eyes glittering malevolently.

Hermione, beside herself with furor, grabbed Ron's finger and pulled it down with one sharply smooth motion.

"How dare you?!" she said, her voice loudly menacing. "Ronald Weasley, you have no idea what you are talking about…as usual!"

Harry peered between Hermione and Ron somewhat dazedly.

"Oh, I don't, do I?" Ron said with cold contempt, ripping his finger out of Hermione's hand and folding his arms over his chest in defiance.

"I think I do." he said smugly, glaring daggers at Draco.

"Watch it, Weasley!" Draco growled, his teeth on edge.

Hermione rounded on Ron again, looking like an angry, bushy haired cat.

"Ron, you are the most arrogant, unmerciful…" Hermione bellowed, absolutely incensed.

But, Harry, having shed his confusion, interrupted her unceremoniously.

"I think," he yelled, silencing Hermione before she could really get going.

"I think we ought to hear what Draco has to say, Ron." he said, with the air of someone talking a suicidal man from a ledge.

Ron raised his eyebrows in a holier-than-thou manner.

"He'll only lie," Ron said knowingly.

Draco looked as if he'd explode as he rushed toward Ron, fists balled up for a fight.

Not to be out done, Ron assumed his fight stance, as well, preparing to throw the first punch.

But, Harry and Hermione, expecting just such a development, were too quick for both of them. In a split second they were between the two fire balls looking to collide…Harry restraining Ron angrily with all his might…Hermione clinging to Draco's right arm like a barnacle to the hull of a ship.

"No…Wait!" Harry started yelling. "Ron, for heaven's sake, not today of all days!"

He threw Ron up against the door with all his might.

"Stop it!" Harry screamed.

Ron looked shocked, and fell back against the door for support as he panted, trying to catch his breath.

Draco, with Hermione still clamped on his arm as if for dear life, was staring at Ron hatefully. He was ready for a second round, but for now, he let the frantic Hermione stay him.

Harry, trying to maintain an air of calm control, turned to Draco, his chest heaving with exertion…his face red and sweating.

"Now, Draco," he gasped out, voice shaking, "why won't you be at the battle?" Harry asked.

Draco saw Harry's calmly trusting face and was grateful he wasn't making any snap judgments.

"Dumbledore asked Draco and Snape to stand guard at the Ministry this morning, so that the Aurors could be at the battle. That way the Ministry is not left open to intruders, and Draco and Snape don't blow their covers as spies for the Order!" Hermione exploded, before Draco could get a word in edgewise.

She ran at Ron, her face full of triumph, her fists tight at her sides.

"Now, you owe Draco an apology, Ronald Weasley!!" she blasted out, her whole body shaking with boiling rage.

Ron blanched, but kept his self-righteous smirk. He ripped open the heavy door, and then briefly turned to Harry.

"I'll be back, Harry," he mumbled haltingly.

Then he dashed out, without so much as a glance at Hermione or Draco.

As soon as Ron was gone, Harry let out a long, pent up breath, releasing the tension inside him.

Then he turned to Draco.

"I never doubted we could count on you, mate," he said, smiling and offering him his hand.

Draco strode forward to receive Harry's proffered hand, and shook it heartily.

"Thanks, Harry!" he said, feeling greatly gratified.

Hermione, smiling exultantly, reached up and pecked both men lightly on the cheek, her heart filling her eyes.

Then she turned to Draco.

"We'd better go, love," she whispered.

He nodded, thumped Harry on the back, and followed Hermione reluctantly to the door. Before they stepped out, Draco turned one last time to regard Harry with sober eyes.

"You are a great leader, Harry," he said wholeheartedly. "You've prepared the recruits well."

Taking Draco's obviously sincere words to heart, Harry smiled shakily.

"Thank you, Draco," he replied in hushed tones.

And, with one last small smile from Hermione, they were gone.

Harry, feeling the weight of the Wizarding World heavily upon him, moved slowly, almost laboriously, to one of the cold mullioned windows overlooking the Black Lake. Wiping the condensation from one of the pains with his sleeve, he let his forehead rest upon the frigid glass. The sun, affording little warmth in its newness, was only just up, its rays cutting through the mist and reflecting off the waters of the lake, creating shimmering gold wavelets, in contrast to the murky depth beneath.

The scene was peaceful…completely incongruous to the turmoil brewing outside the Castle grounds.

Harry breathed out a weary sigh.

Soon, the recruits would be arriving. They'd be looking to him to lead them…to reassure them.

The coolness of the glass soothed his hot face. Closing his eyes, he took one last, deep cleansing breath…

And, prayed to the gods for a miracle.

Meanwhile, Draco and Hermione walked hand in hand back to their quarters, hearts sore with worry and uncertainty. They didn't speak, for, there was too much to say and too little time in which to say it.

But, no sooner had each of their feet touched ground inside their portrait hole door, then Draco reached out to frantically crush Hermione to him.

"Don't do it, Hermione!" he breathed into her hair desperately. "Don't go to Kings Cross today!"

Hermione squeezed him tightly in return, muffling a sob against his chest. Her fingers clung to his shoulders so tightly that her they hurt.

After gaining some control of her rampant emotions, she turned her face from Draco's chest so she could speak.

"Don't ask me not to go, dearest," she whimpered brokenly. "I don't want to have to refuse you."

"Hermione…" he cried, pulling her away from him, forcing her to look on his pain.

She touched his lips with her long, gentle fingers.

"No, darling," she said desperately, her eyes pleading with him. "I have to go. Don't you see? I know you're scared for me…for us, but I can't just walk away!"

Hermione gave him a little shake, as though to bring him to his senses.

His tortured gaze only deepened.

"Draco, you know I have to do this," she sobbed, going limp against him. "Please understand…Please!" she finished weakly.

With a deep shuddering breath, Draco kissed the top of her head and smiled bitterly.

"Hermione," he said with the softest, most intimate inflection. "My Hermione…"

Then, suddenly, he pulled her back once more and pressed his lips to hers, almost punishingly, only to break the kiss abruptly to stare defiantly into her eyes.

"Yes," he said, terrible frustration giving force to his words, "I knew that's what you would say!"

There was barely controlled rancor in his words, his eyes dark with pained longing.

"You're bound and determined to fight, with or without my blessing! So, I will give my blessing! For, I will not be parted from you in strife at the last!"

Ignoring her frightened eyes, he kissed her again, this time somewhat less roughly…though, she could feel his extreme frustration, still.

After a moment, as Draco continued to kiss her forcefully, Hermione did not recoil, but let her hands come up under his arms to caress his back lovingly. She coaxed him into gentle acceptance with her sweet, fervent kisses, whispering to him assurances of her love, until his possessive grip on her loosened, and his hard eyes shone with soft, untroubled love light once again.

She had taken on her dragon and had won the battle…for both of them. The power struggle had been brief, but productive. Their love had come through that dark and dangerous moment in tact…making both of them the victors.

"I love you, Hermione," Draco said, tears of surrender standing in his eyes.

"And I love you," she responded tenderly, brushing a strand of platinum hair from his forehead. "Don't worry, dearest. Though Death appears to circle us like sharks circling their prey, our love is strong as Death. And, by it, we will prevail."

Draco felt the sincerity of her words hitting him hard…the power of them, the Truth in them…In that instant, his heart and mind were fully persuaded, and the revelation moved from his heart to his countenance, relaxing every worried line beautifully.

He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that even though he could not physically be there with her in the needful hour, she would carry with her his love, as a warrior carries his shield. His love would protect her…His love would thwart the evil pressing in on her.

Draco felt the oppressive, black presence of fear leave him in a rush. And, he heard again her words to him when she had accompanied him to see Dumbledore. It seemed a lifetime ago.

_Do not fear, only believe_

He looked at her. She was smiling knowingly.

Had she said the words just then, or had he heard them only in his own head?

It didn't matter. They were the truth either way.

He pulled Hermione to him one last time, breathing in the strawberry scent of her hair.

He did not fear leaving her now. He could let her go, knowing she was enveloped in his the power of his love.

When Snape came for Draco a few minutes later, he was ready.

As he kissed Hermione "goodbye", much to Snape's obvious discomfort, he still felt no fear for her. It did not occur to him to question this surreal peace in his heart. He only felt grateful for it.

Snape cleared his throat impatiently.

"Professor Dumbledore has arranged for us to use the Floo Network to get to the Ministry," he said coolly, pulling a small canister of floo powder out of his robes.

"Draco you'll go first," Snape ordered, holding the canister out to him.

Draco took a pinch of the green powder, threw it on the grate, and with one last backward glance at the bravely smiling Hermione, stepped in quickly,

"Ministry of Magic!" he said loudly and clearly.

The room before him spun so fast he had to close his eyes against the threat of sickening dizziness. The spinning sensation only lasted seconds before, in a puff of black, powdery soot, Draco found himself stepping out into a polished and ornate corridor at the Ministry.

After Draco and Snape were gone, Hermione grabbed up her map from her school bag and headed out the door at top speed.

She arrived at the Room of Requirement in record time, bursting through the door breathlessly.

Noting that Dumbledore, who stood at the front of the room by the fireplace, had arranged all twenty-five D.A. recruits into groups of 5, she looked for Harry and Ron, who were standing with Neville and Ernie, beckoning her to them.

Trying to appear as calm and collected as possible, she strode over to her friends, with an apologetic smile to Dumbledore for being late. He simply nodded understandingly and continued with his instructions.

"As I was saying, each group has a portkey. Make sure each of you has a hand on it right now."

There was a flurry around the room as people rushed to obey. As Hermione joined her hand with those of her friends in touching their portkey, she noted it was a muggle playing card.

"When I activate the portkeys they will take you to an alley way only half a block south of the entrance gates at Kings Cross Station. You should have no trouble blending in with the crowd dressed in your muggle attire, so I believe you should enter all together. As soon as you are inside, find your assigned spots with as much haste as possible."

"Try not to draw attention to yourselves, however," Dumbledore said, peering at them over his glasses rims, as was his habit.

"Please designate someone to carry the portkey with him or her at all times, so that you can all get home after it's all over."

Dumbledore looked carefully around the room, giving each group time to pick the holder of the portkey. Harry's group chose Harry.

When the room was silent once more, Dumbledore continued.

"Are there any questions?" he asked pleasantly.

No one raised a hand.

"All right, then, be sure you are holding on tightly. And, good luck to all of you!" he said, raising his wand.

The next moment, the travelers felt the familiar pull behind the navel and they were off. Dumbledore's face blurred, and all that could be seen were varying colors blending into one another and flying furiously past. The rushing sound around them built and built to a veritable roaring, and then, suddenly there was the firmness of pavement under their feet.

Harry and Hermione looked around to see that everyone was all right. Several of their comrades, not being used to this mode of magical transportation, were panting, and some were a little green around the gills.

After a few moments, everyone was recovered and ready to go on. They moved as a unit, with Harry, Hermione, and Ron in the lead.

The walk was a short one and uneventful. When the group got to the gates, Harry commanded everyone to put one hand on their wands.

"All right, everyone ready?" he said with a confidence he did not feel. "Let's go in."

Through the gates they went, their only comfort in their numbers and the sure knowledge that there were about 200 Order Members and Ministry Aurors waiting for them.

The Station was certainly crowded, just as Dumbledore had feared, Hermione noted grimly.

As the buzz of thousands of voices met his ears, it became all too real to Harry that he and his little group were there to defend living, breathing people…People who laughed, loved, and had no idea that their lives were in immediate danger.

Harry was watching all around himself and his group; all the while looking for any sign of the Order or the Aurors.

Then, Nymphadora Tonks let herself be briefly seen stepping out from behind a ticket booth. Harry eyed her casually for a moment, and she faded from view once more.

"They're over there," Harry said in low tones, indicating Tonks' position with a small jerk of his head.

Hermione and Ron nodded, moving off with Harry in the indicated direction.

Then, without warning, an ear-splitting explosion, so powerful that the ground and air shook violently with the reverberation, roared all around the Station. At the same time a painfully bright, white light enveloped them, searing the eyes of the unsuspecting crowd. Then a thick, black smoke began rolling in from the detonation point.

People screamed frantically in shock and fear, many of them falling violently to the ground. Several of Harry's group lay in heaps, having been knocked out by the shock waves. Hermione was moving amongst them, with her wand trying to "ennervate" them as quickly as possible.

"What the bloody hell?!" Ron bellowed, waving his arms to clear away some of the smoke.

Thankfully, there was a slight breeze wafting through the Station, and visibility began to be restored, though the process was frustratingly slow.

Harry's eyes were locked on the spot where the greatest concentration of the acrid haze seemed to be. With heart pounding he began to make out large hulking forms through the smoke. Then, as the air cleared a little more, Harry saw what he had been dreading all along. There before him, and in huge numbers, were figures wearing the billowing black robes and skull-like masks of Voldemort's Death Eaters.

One particularly large Death Eater stepped out from the crowd, pointing his wand into the sky violently.

"Mosmordre!" he screamed.

And, immediately, there was a smaller explosion, accompanied by what looked like a fireworks show of various colored sparks, and a huge skull with a green serpent proceeding out of its gaping mouth appeared in the sky high above the group of Lord Voldemort's evil servants.

The Dark Mark…

The sign of certain death…

People were running frantically, trying to find their way out of the gates as another blast sounded, equally as loud and powerful as the initial one. Another huge group of Death Eaters appeared behind Harry's group.

Then, there were blasts sounding one after another, some nearer, some farther away.

"It's a trap!" Harry yelled. "Take cover! Take cover!" he commanded his recruits, waving his arms at those who were still standing, and grabbing at the arms of those recovering on the ground from the after effects of the explosions.

Order Members and Aurors were appearing everywhere, and helping to get the incapacitated D.A. members up and running.

Curses were flying fast and furious by now, and over the terrible noise of panicking muggles, could be heard the low, rumbling chanting of the Death Eaters, speaking of death and destruction in their black secret tongue.

That sound in and of itself was enough to immobilize many muggles with abject terror, making them easy targets. They were falling like flies as the merciless Death Eaters cut through them as though their curses were knives. Some of them were bursting wide open, some were bleeding profusely, and frantically trying to stop the flow of the life containing fluid with their hands…and some of them were all ready dead, eyes staring and devoid of the divine spark of life.

With Harry in the lead, the D.A. group, now all of them revived, began running… scurrying like scared rabbits looking for cover, and doing their best to dodge the plethora of curses flying all around them.

Then, a lavender light shot towards them, hitting someone just behind Harry and to his right. He saw his comrade fall to the ground, but he could not see who the fallen one was through all the smoke.

"No!" he yelled in anguish, as he ducked down and tried to half crawl in the direction of the barely discernable crumpled form.

A curse hit only inches in front of Harry, then another, and another. Harry scrambled back and dove behind a large rubbish bin.

_I can't get there. _ he thought, horrified.

He peeped out from behind the rubbish bin again. There were now small fires ablaze everywhere, byproducts of the many spells being employed. The smoke from these incidental flames was adding to the visibility problem. Harry still couldn't see his fallen cohort.

_Who is it?_

He could only hope Ron and Hermione had been able to find relative safety.


	40. Chapter 40

Chapter 40

Draco carefully placed his hand inside his robes and grasped his wand firmly as he and Snape moved down the corridor and away from the fireplace from which they had stepped.

Lit only by hundreds of magically floating candles, the Ministry was extremely quiet—eerily so. The silence made the tiny hairs on the back of Draco's neck and arms stand on end. He felt nervously vigilant.

Judging by Snape's constantly darting eyes, he too, was feeling somewhat anxious.

The two continued down the corridor, which was richly paneled in dark mahogany, the only sound, the click of their heals on the highly polished marble floor. There were fine portraits, richly depicting various famous wizards on one wall…Dumbledore's among them, with his usual calmly appraising smile…and on the opposite wall, hung the official portraits of all the Ministers of Magic from first to last—the estimable Mr. Rufus Scrimgeour being the final picture, looking ever as much the lion with his tawny mane of hair brushed back in all its fullness, his amber lion-like eyes, and robe of deep yellow crushed velvet.

For a moment, Draco's eyes fell on the Minister of Magic just previous to Scrimgeour, one Mr. Cornelius Fudge. He had left the position in disgrace, when he had completely mishandled the return of Voldemort three years prior, by denying the possibility of any such occurrence, and misleading the Wizarding World to do the same. Harry had, of course been involved in that fiasco, being the one who saw first hand the infamous Wizard return to full power before his very eyes. He had almost been killed by the Dark Lord at that time, but, even though Dumbledore had vouched for Harry's reliability, Fudge continued to live in denial, and much time was handed to Voldemort to reinforce his position without opposition of any kind. This, of course, lead to some very cruel and unnecessary happenings.

Thinking on this tragic time in the Ministry's history, Draco shook his head sadly and wondered briefly what Fudge was thinking this very day.

"The Security Desk is right ahead," Snape said coolly, interrupting his companion's musings jarringly. "Pull out your wand."

Draco obeyed, though he felt reticent to relinquish his only weapon. He felt jittery, as though something was not right.

He chuckled at this thought. Of course things weren't right! Voldemort was on the loose, and his plans for the day would likely end in many, many senseless and brutal deaths. But, Draco's anxiety went deeper than the obvious. No. Something…some sinister undertow was threatening to drag him and everyone he cared about under…What was happening?

Then, Draco remembered Dumbledore sharing his frustration with he and Hermione, at the nagging suspicion that there was more to this attack than first met the eye. Draco felt himself breaking out in a cold sweat, as he wondered if Dumbledore's intuition was correct. What if he, Draco, was sensing the same thing, at this very moment? He sighed audibly, which made Snape look at him in a suspicious side long glance.

"Anything wrong, Draco?" Snape queried, looking not at all interested to hear the answer.

"I hope not, Sir," Draco mumbled, feeling decidedly disquieted.

Snape gave his favorite potions student a quizzical look, but did not press for more information, because they had arrived at last at the Security Desk.

The check-in attendant at the Desk, stood up from his chair behind the glass receiving window as soon as he spotted the two visitors. He was a short, but powerfully built middle-aged Wizard, with a florid, heavily jowled face, and a thick head of dark hair. In truth, he looked a little like a suspicious bull dog.

His practiced and alert, watery eyes had noted the lack of identification tags with stated intent on the two men's robes immediately, and it was clear he would not be bypassed easily.

"There now," he said warily. "Who are you? And, where's your I.D.?" he asked, clearly uncomfortable with the apparent departure from proper Ministry procedure.

"Sir," Snape said with a slight bow, "we are from Hogwarts…Draco Malfoy," he pointed to his student, "and Severus Snape. Albus Dumbledore procured special permission for us to arrive by the Floo Network. I believe you are expecting us?" he finished in the polite, but coldly businesslike tone.

The man's face relaxed perceptibly.

"Yes! Yes, of course!" he said, with great relief. "Glad to make your acquaintance, Sirs!" he enthused as he held up his name tag.

"The name's Eric!" he beamed. "At your service!"

Draco smiled in greeting and handed the gentleman his wand. But, Snape merely nodded coldly as he laid his wand on the counter. Eric didn't seem to notice.

"I'll just give you your name tags myself, then," he said officiously, as he tapped a small metal box about the size of a tin of sardines, with a slotted hole in its top.

With a whirring sound and a melodic "ding", the little machine popped out an I.D. for Draco, stating his full name and his mission, "standing guard at the Ministry of Magic". And, with another tap of Eric's wand, out came an identical tag for Professor Snape.

"Here you are!" Eric said importantly, still smiling brightly. "Now, I'll measure the wands."

Professor Snape slapped his tag on impatiently, all but rolling his eyes at Eric's overtly helpful attitude.

Draco couldn't help but smile in some amusement, as he watched the oblivious Eric placed his wand on what looked to be some kind of ancient scales.

"Mr. Malfoy, your wand is 13 inches long, with a dragon scale core, and has been in use—" he paused for a moment, studying the reading on the antiquated machine, "nearly seven years," he said expertly as he handed Draco's wand back to him with a flourish.

Draco smiled again, nodding deferentially and liking the inimitable Eric more and more.

Snape, on the other hand, looked ready to explode in a tirade at any moment.

"Hurry up, man!" he growled. "We're expected in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement this very moment!"

Eric looked up, mildly surprised.

"Tut! Tut!" he said, as if humoring a small, angry child. "Procedure must be followed!"

Eric's smile grew wider, and Snape's scowl got all the deeper.

Draco, nervous as he was, felt he might burst into uncontrollable laughter, so he coughed into his hand and turned his back on the scene.

Eric, in no hurry at all, finished his measurements of Snape's wand and politely handed it back with yet another toothy smile and a friendly "good day, gentleman!".

Snape, now past all patience, snatched his wand, and glared furiously. But, Eric's smile never left his face, and Draco's shoulders shook with suppressed laughter as he tried to control his very great mirth.

Professor Snape eyed Draco suspiciously, "Is there a problem, Mr. Malfoy?" he asked, his voice darkly dangerous.

Draco cleared his throat uneasily, his amusement immediately squelched.

"No, Sir," he said, casting his glance downward.

With another scowl, Snape stepped up the pace, mumbling something about "hold ups" and being "inexcusably late".

_It's going to be a long morning, _Draco thought grimly.

The screams of horror from the ensuing battle were still very close, but the Death Eaters, who were still chanting malevolently, had begun systematically moving towards the central part of the Station, pushing their targets ahead of them relentlessly, like black clad, evil shepherds, killing and maiming as they went.

Harry had been behind the rubbish bin for the better part of a half hour, shooting out curses and spells whenever the chance presented itself, and had had great success, killing and/or incapacitating the Enemy, for they did not know of his position and fell into his trap repeatedly.

Now as the battle itself continued to move away from his position, Harry, still consumed with finding out the identity of the fallen one, knew this might be his only chance to get to him or her without being victimized himself.

Peering at the debris and wreckage around him carefully, he discerned no signs of any other moving presence, but his own.

Swallowing hard against the fear rising up within him, Harry slipped out of his hiding spot, moving with the stealth of a cat right past a Death Eater he'd cast a body-binding curse upon only moments before. Behind his mask, the eyes of the Enemy were hatefully following Harry as he headed toward the crumpled body now only feet from him.

In seconds, Harry was knelt before the apparently twisted and lifeless body…it's muggle jacket whipped up over it's head, seemingly by the sheer force of the curse that had been employed against it.

Harry's heart was pounding terrifically, his palms sweating so much that he had to wipe them on his jeans before reaching a shaking hand slowly out to pull the bloodied jacket away from the face of the victim.

"Please," he pleaded softly in a shaky voice.

Then he gently removed the fabric to reveal…

"Ernie Macmillan!" he whispered, his face paling.

He swallowed hard, shaking his head sorrowfully. Then, with careful reverent hands, he replaced the coat over his friend's face. He could not bring himself to leave Ernie with his lifeless, staring brown eyes, and mask-like anguished face open to prying eyes.

"We'll be back for you, Ernie," Harry whispered, a sob catching in his chest. "You fought the good fight, my friend."

Then he sadly got up and ran in search of the battle.

Ron and Hermione were still fighting side by side. The sights and sounds of the battle, vicious and overwhelming, filling their eyes and ears, as they threw curse after curse without break. Death Eaters seemed to be everywhere…killing, burning, and destroying without thought or mercy! Trash bins and buildings were on fire, and Muggles, like fiery human torches writhed and screamed to their last breaths. The stench was unbearable.

And the smoke! The ever present, black, rolling smoke…choking the breath out of everyone!

Hermione, being the smartest witch of her age, had been working to find the pattern in the Death Eater's battle strategy…and it seemed to her that the side of right was fighting a losing battle. It had become apparent to her that when the Death Eater Squads had exploded into the Station they had placed themselves in a circular formation outlining the perimeters of the Station.

Now, they were slowly tightening that circle, encapsulating everything and everyone inside it. It was a deadly snare, and Hermione felt that it was only a matter of time before the few remaining victims would be surrounded by a boiling, chanting wall of Black Death, from which they could not have a hope of escaping.

The only thing left for the Resistance to do was to take down as many of the evil killing machines with them as possible. And she had determined to do just that.

Hermione had noted with grim satisfaction that many of the muggles had stopped behaving as sheep to the slaughter and had begun fighting back as well, hitting the hell bent enemy with benches, decorative potted plants…even rolled up newspapers.

She knew their small efforts were futile, but she cheered them in her heart and helped them all she could.

Suddenly, Hermione heard Harry's voice behind her, shouting orders to his recruits.

_Thank the _gods, she thought, great relief flooding her as she realized she hadn't seen him in quite some time.

Not able to safely turn from the battle for even a moment, Hermione slowly and awkwardly moved backwards toward Harry's voice. She threw a "sectumsempra" curse at a Death Eater as he tried to beat off a little old woman who was giving him all she had with her little knitted handbag.

Immediately, the evil being fell to the ground bleeding profusely from the several hundred cuts Hermione knew were manifest under his sooty black robes.

The little old woman looked shocked but satisfied, jutting her chin out defiantly and running off, presumably in search of another victim.

Finally, Hermione got close enough to Harry for her shout to be heard.

"Harry!" she bellowed. "Harry!"

Ducking what looked like an "Avada Kedavra", judging from the green streak of light, Harry ran toward her, while she deftly disposed of the Death Eater that had thrown the curse.

"Relashio!" she screamed.

And the Enemy burst into flames and ran off, with a high-pitched scream, arms flailing jerkily.

"Thanks!" Harry yelled.

Hermione nodded distractedly and grabbing his arm, dragged him behind a small ticket booth, just in time to avoid being hit by three separate curses that had been sent after them in their flight.

What is it?" Harry asked, his eyes searching hers fearfully.

We're surrounded, Harry!" she cried grabbing at his shirt frantically. "I've figured it out! The Death Eaters have formed a great circle around all of us! They are slowly moving in, cleaning up as they go!"

"Good gods!" Harry yelled, his eyes wide. "We're doomed!" he said angrily clenching his teeth.

Hermione shook her head suddenly, as an unlooked for thought came to her. Why hadn't she thought of it before!

"No!" she cried, grabbing Harry's arm. "If we can get enough people past them, we can turn the tide!"

"Of course!" Harry said forcefully. "Then we'll be the ones doing the surrounding!" he finished, the light of hope shining out from his eyes.

Hermione nodded enthusiastically.

"But, we have to hurry!" she cautioned strongly. "We have to tell as many of the others as possible, and get them through the line quickly! The further in the Death Eaters drive us, the tighter their circle becomes! Soon, no one will be able to get through!"

"Right!" Harry said, his jaw set. "You go this way, and I'll go that way," he said, pointing first to the right, then to the left.

"Tell _every other person _you meet to run to the perimeter of the circle…to get beyond it if they can! That way, we'll have people fighting from the inside and the outside of the circle!"

Hermione nodded, and made to leave. Harry grabbed her wrist to stop her.

"You're brilliant, Hermione!" Harry yelled, giving her a quick hug of appreciation.

Hermione hugged him back, tears springing to her eyes. She only prayed they had enough time and people to pull this off.

After all, the plan was only a breath of hope…but it was a hope just the same…and it was all they had.


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter 41

Draco and Professor Snape, meantime, arrived at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, out of breath and panting. Snape was still irritated by the experience at the Security Desk with the inexhaustibly cheerful Eric, and was making a great show of making up for lost time, by running almost every step of the way, except, of course, when they had been obliged to take the lift.

Draco wasn't laughing anymore. In fact, his scowl now matched that of his professor.

The Department, which was essentially a group of cubicles surrounding a large conference area, was still as stone, and virtually empty, as almost all the Aurors were at Kings Cross or out on another worthy assignment.

Professor Snape and Draco had been told to expect at least one Auror to be waiting for them. But, where was he or she?

"Hello," Professor Snape said, his voice tentative.

They heard the scraping of chair legs on the floor, and a head popped out of one of the cubicles.

"Hello," the as yet unknown man replied.

Snape and Draco headed in his direction, relieved to see someone who knew what to do about patrolling the vast Ministry building.

"I'm Jonathan Martin," the man said, extending a hand as he approached them.

The Auror assigned to lead the Ministry patrol was about 25, sporting spiky, dishwater blonde hair, and large heavily lashed blue eyes. He was tall—about 6'1", and broad shouldered.

His appearance gave him the air of careless indifference—his official Ministry robes of dignified black rumpled, his ascot tie of deep purple and white stripe askew, the knot loose and pulled too far down.

Snape shook his hand briefly, a look of distaste evident upon his face.

"You must be Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy," he said making a great show of reading from their name tags, his eyes twinkling playfully.

"Yes, Sir," Draco said with a nod.

Jonathan offered Draco his hand, as well.

"Let's drop the 'Sir', Draco," he said, laughing. "I'm not your teacher, just another fighter in this evil War. The name's Jonathan."

Snape didn't look as if he quite approved of such familiarities, but Draco nodded, shaking Jonathan's hand heartily.

"All right, Jonathan," he said, smilingly.

Jonathan then turned to Snape.

"Severus, why don't you and Draco come into my office, and we'll get down to business."

Severus nodded curtly, and he and Draco followed Jonathan into his small cubicle.

Jonathan's "office" was only large enough to hold his small, scarred up, wooden desk, which was covered in a plethora of parchments at the moment, three chairs pulled up close to the desk, and a small rickety plant stand holding one pathetic, half-dead fern.

"Nice office," Draco said politely, as he took one of the chairs in front of the old desk.

"It's a dump," Jonathan said unapologetically, with a laugh. "But, it serves its purpose."

Snape gracefully settled in the chair next to Draco, without a word, either good or bad. His full attention was on Jonathan, as he took his seat behind his desk and pulled a map out of the squeaky top drawer and rolled it out on top of the coffee stained pile of parchments.

"This is a map of the Ministry," he explained, as Snape and Draco leaned forward for a closer look.

"As you can see, there are nine levels to patrol, but the levels run underground instead of up in the traditional several stories reaching to the sky. On each floor there are, of course, about twenty to twenty-five witches and wizards employed in their various departments. Usually there are one or two Aurors standing guard and patrolling each floor, except on the ninth level, on which there are at least three Aurors present at all time, day and night.

Snape nodded, and Jonathan stood up to gain a better vantage point from which to direct their attention to a particular spot on the map.

"The most information sensitive departments are on that level, which is why it is deepest underground," he said, as he pointed to a small black square on the parchment.

"The Department of Mysteries is found here, where it is most secure. Anyone wishing to get down that far would have to face a whole building full of capable witches and wizards, starting with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement…the Aurors…here on the second level."

He paused eyeing his audience pointedly.

"At least, on a regular day that's what they would face…"

He smiled at Snape, who only stared at him, his face unreadable.

"Today, of course, it's all hands on deck for the big battle at Kings Cross. So, only a few of the witches and wizards on each floor have agreed to stay behind and patrol their own offices. Our sole responsibility is to watch over the ninth level and most especially the Department of Mysteries."

Jonathan winked at Draco conspiratorially.

"But, I'm fairly sure the three of us can handle things all right, eh?" he said easily, as he leaned back in his chair.

Snape continued to stare at Jonathan now almost despisingly. It was obvious he did not care for the young Auror's carefree manner.

"Shall we patrol together or separately, Mr. Martin?" he ground out.

Jonathan smiled, refusing to be drawn in to Snape's foul mood.

"My feeling is that we'd do best to stick together." he answered with his continued mischievous smile.

"After all, I don't think there'll be any trouble here today, do you? What with every bloody Death Eater at the Station."

For a moment, Jonathan's blue eyes glittered ominously, and Draco wondered what kind of action his new friend had seen in his presumably short time as an Auror.

At this point, Snape jumped up, apparently desiring to end the meeting.

"Let's go," he said shortly, giving Jonathan a truculent glare, almost daring him to try to gainsay him.

Draco, who had quite enjoyed Jonathan's casual manner and easy banter, jumped up somewhat guiltily and followed the good professor, while plastering an appropriately sober expression on his face.

"All right, gentlemen," Jonathan said cheerfully, as he got up to join them.

And without further conversation, he led his charges back to the lift with surprisingly quick efficiency. He waved Snape and Draco in, stepping in behind them.

As the lift jerked downward, Jonathan spoke again.

"I believe it would be best to stop at each floor to check things out and let everyone know we're headed to the ninth level now. That way they'll know where we are," he said in a businesslike tone.

Snape nodded looking less despising, apparently liking Jonathan's more officious persona better.

At each floor, a cool, composed female voice announced the departments to be found on that level, before the heavy lift doors slid open with a soft "bang". Jonathan, with Snape and Draco in tow, stepped out to find and speak to the employees manning that particular floor. Of course, there were no problems to report and no one seemed at all concerned that there would be any.

Jonathan was all business now. In fact, he worked so quickly and efficiently that the check on the other floors only took twenty minutes.

When the three reached the ninth level, Draco stepped off the lift behind Snape, and immediately felt a shiver run down his spine, so cold and dank was the atmosphere.

He was not fond of thinking how far underground they were now. Jonathan had said the lower levels were the safest, and while that was most likely true from a security standpoint, Draco didn't think that being practically buried alive under tons and tons of cement and earth seemed very safe at all. Suffocating, perhaps…but not safe.

The ninth level was darker and quieter than the other floors. But, it was set up similarly, with the large open conference area and the employee's cubicles behind it.

No one came to speak to Jonathan, Snape, and Draco upon their arrival, though a couple of wizards poked their heads out briefly to eye them. Seemingly satisfied that the newcomers were friendly, they drew back hastily, however.

"They're a little strange down here," Jonathan whispered, pointing briefly in the direction of the shadowy cubicles. "Keep to themselves mostly…almost never talk to anyone outside their department. That's why their called 'Unspeakables'."

Snape looked emphatically bored, but Draco found himself fascinated.

"I don't think we need bother them," Jonathan continued in low tones. "Just follow me."

Walking quickly through the conference area and past the cramped little cubicles without seeming to notice their occupants, he lead them to the mouth of an even darker and colder corridor. The floating candles, which were giving off very little light, looked like dirty yellow smudges bobbing up near the ceiling.

"Just a quick word here," Jonathan said softly, as he pointed to his right.

"This door is to the Entrance Room, which contains the doors to all the other rooms," he said leaning into his audience secretively.

The door was imposing…sturdy and blackest black.

"The Entrance Room is, obviously protected with any number of powerful enchantments. For, in these rooms the Unspeakables work on the most sensitive subject matter to be studied in the Ministry."

"Like what?" Draco asked, unabashedly curious.

Snape snorted contemptuously.

"Obviously all that is a secret, Draco," he said derisively. "Stop asking stupid questions, and let's get on with this."

Draco dared to ignore the professor pointedly…as did Jonathan.

"I couldn't say for sure, but there are the stories that float around…" Jonathan answered with quiet excitement.

Draco smiled his encouragement.

"Tell me."

Snape snorted again.

"This is ridiculous!" he said venomously, walking off in a self-righteous huff.

"Well," Jonathan continued, as if Snape had not spoken, "rumor has it that they study the deeper mysteries like time, space…they keep time turners in there…thought, death…and love," he finished quietly.

"Love?" Draco replied, awestruck. "They study love? Why?"

"Apparently they've found it to be quite powerful," Jonathan answered, weight in every word. "It's supposed to be the most secretive study conducted here. The room in which they study the Power of Love is locked all the time. And, no one goes in there without the highest level or authorization. As far as I know, there are only two or three Unspeakables that have that status."

Draco felt somewhat puzzled at this, but at the same time, deep within his heart he was not confused about it at all. After all, had it not been the Power of Love…Hermione's love…that had drawn him back from the very vortex of the worst Evil? Was he not living proof that Love was strong as Death? Before Hermione had come along, with her soft, but irresistible compassion, he himself had surely been headed straight into the arms of that darkest Specter of all.

And, had not the Love of Harry's brave mother, Lily, saved him from Voldemort's Killing Curse? Could it not be said that Love had defeated the most powerful Dark Lord in centuries, in that moment?

Yes, Draco understood, at least to a some degree, why the Ministry wanted to study this singular Power. It was the one Power Voldemort could not wield. It was the one thing that could destroy him, thus removing his black influence from the World forever.

"Draco?" Jonathan said inquiringly, puzzlement in his countenance. "Everything all right?"

Draco smiled as he snapped out of his reverie.

"Yes," he said, "I was just thinking about something."

"Yeah, well, we'd better go find your intrepid Professor Snape before he reports me for lack of professionalism," Jonathan said, only half joking.

The two men started walking.

"He's wound a bit tight, isn't he?" Jonathan asked in all seriousness.

"A bit," Draco confirmed, with a slight smile playing on his lips.

Jonathan winked and nodded knowingly in answer.

After about an hour of walking the long, cold corridor, Draco felt smothered by the silence. The atmosphere was oppressively melancholy. Draco's thoughts became disjointed…hard to connect. When he did think coherently, he thought of Hermione and his deep abiding love for her. He wondered what she, Harry, and the recruits were facing at that moment. But, it took so much emotional energy to maintain those cogitations that soon he was forced to set his mind in neutral.

He would have liked to talk to Jonathan for a bit. For, Draco was sure the young Auror had many exiting stories to tell. But, Snape's evident disapproval of what he thought of as idle chatter had squelched that inclination in both of his companions completely.

Just as Draco felt he might fall asleep on his feet from torpor, a distant but loud "crack" echoed down the corridor from the conference area up front.

Draco, Snape, and Jonathan peered at each other through the gloom in shock.

"Death Eaters in the building!" A high pitched wizard's voice shrieked. "Death Eaters in the building!"

Without a word, the three drew their wands and bolted in the direction of the ominous "crack". By now, Draco could hear the unmistakable sounds of wizards dueling desperately in the distance. There was a great deal of yelling and screaming, furniture was being violently overturned, and glass was shattering. The sickening thud of bodies crashing to the ground set Draco's teeth on edge with rage.

The three pelted along as fast as their legs would go, driven by the obvious distress cries of the innocents being slaughtered with no mercy.

So great was the speed of the would be rescuers that when they reached the mouth of the corridor they could not stop, but slid haphazardly into the comparatively brighter room.

_So much for the element of surprise…_Draco thought grimly, as he panted and shot his gaze around the room, looking for his first target.

"Draco!" came a muffled hateful voice from behind one of the hideous masks. "What are you doing here?!"

Back at Kings Cross, Harry and Hermione worked as quickly as they could through the crowd, in search of people to help them implement their plan. They were, of course, greatly hindered by the volley of curses and death dealing spells they had to fight through. But, with careful, tactical fighting, within a half hour they had sent several of their side, D.A., OOTP, and Ministry Aurors, toward the perimeter, hopefully to breach the Death Eater's last line of defense, and turn the battle to their advantage.

Hermione continued on, the smoke choking her and mercilessly stinging her reddened eyes. She had stopped trying to keep the cleansing tears from pouring down her sooty cheeks. There just wasn't time for such concerns.

Diving behind an overturned baggage cart, she found herself, for about the hundredth time, feeling thankful for all the relatively safe hiding places that had thrown themselves in her path as she endeavored to fulfill her quest. She only hoped that Harry was having as much luck as she.

Harry was, indeed, making tremendous strides toward the Death Eater's line of perimeter. He could see the brown brick of the east gate in the not to far off distance now. Here the Death Eaters were spread out with several feet of space between them. But, Harry noted that the evil servants of the Dark Lord were working hard to repel the attempts of the side of right to get behind them, thus breaking their stranglehold over the Battle.

Harry hovered near the line purposefully, concentrating his efforts on killing or demobilizing as many of the Death Eaters as he could. He wished to make a hole large enough for his compatriots to get through, so they could, in turn, begin destroying the Enemy from the outside, as he continued to barrage them with curses from the inside.

The effectiveness of this plan began to be seen within a quarter of an hour. Harry's nearby cohorts discerning what he was trying to accomplish formed themselves up so that some were assisting him in making the break, while others were surreptitiously slipping through the ever widening hole, finding hiding places, and shooting off curses at the Enemy from the outside.

Harry, with great satisfaction, noted the sudden confusion and panic of the Enemy. They had figured out, too late, their opponents new battle plan, and now Harry's people were trickling through the break in the Death Eater's line with little hindrance.

Harry began traveling along the perimeter instructing all he could reach from the side of right as to what he had been doing, and setting them to the same task.

Some time later, when the sights and sounds of battle, which were no less terrible, had become so commonplace that the fighters no longer felt the horror of them, Harry thought he spied Hermione's ringletted brown head bobbing up and down as she fought in near proximity to him.

Harry's heart leaped with joy!

_We've done it!_ he thought incredulously.

He knew Hermione had originally gone in the opposite direction from him. If she was this near now it could only mean she had met with the same success breaching the Death Eater's line as he had.

Slipping behind yet another smoldering trash bin, Harry eyed the battle field critically, his stomach churning anxiously.

"Please! Please!" he muttered desperately.

Yes! They _had_ done it!

Harry could clearly see the circular battle line all around him and it was now made up of OOTP, D.A., and Ministry Aurors, all fiercely battling the remaining Death Eaters into a tight group in the ever shrinking circle.

"Yes!" Harry yelled victoriously. "Yes!"

Then his eye fell on Hermione's fighting form once again. She was now no more than twenty feet from him.

What he saw made his jubilant heart go cold with terror.

"My gods, Hermione!" he bellowed, taking off like a shot towards her. "No!!!"


	42. Chapter 42

Chapter 42

Draco stopped cold, sudden fear gripping him for a split second. Then, upon eyeing the many bodies of innocents strewn about the room, he felt his courage enough to lift his wand and point it firmly at the hideous specter that had addressed him.

"Father," he said coolly, eyeing Lucius down the shaft of his wand.

The as yet unknown Death Eaters shifted into fight stance immediately, their wands at the ready.

"Draco, what are you doing? And, Severus…"

His eye fell on Snape with a momentary flash of hateful disbelief.

"How can you betray our benevolent Lord this way?!"

He let his gaze fall upon Draco once more.

"How can you betray your own Father?!" he all but screamed frantically, ripping off his mask in his unbridled angst.

Lucius' eyes had turned maniacal, as he clenched his teeth in his wrath.

Draco did not cower, but only kept his gaze and his wand steady. He heard Snape and Jonathan shift beside him, apparently anticipating the outbreak of the fight.

"Voldemort is NOT benevolent!" he said in even, forceful tones. "He is a crazed, power hungry, heartless, dictatorial lunatic!"

At this, Lucius grabbed at the sides of his head frenetically, as though trying to keep it from exploding.

"NO!!!" he screamed.

But, Draco was not done. He took a deep, angry breath.

"And, YOU are not a father to me!!" he bellowed, fighting to remain in control.

"INGRATE!" Lucius cried, his face almost purple with rage. "UNGRATEFUL BASTARD!"

With lightning speed his wand was upon Draco.

"Avada!" he hissed.

"Avada!" Draco cried out simultaneously.

"KEDAVRA!"

A flash of iridescent green light split the air between the father and his son.

At the same moment, the other Death Eaters, with guttural, almost primal growls, shot Killing Curses, at Snape and Jonathan as well. Suddenly, the room was in a chaos of various colored lights and smoke and frenzied yelling. The soft thud of more than one body could be barely heard over the melee.

Then, as suddenly as it started, it was over, and all was silent.

Back at the Battle at Kings Cross, Harry was driving himself toward Hermione, his face the very picture of utmost concentration. Unknown to him, Ron was coming up behind him, having also spied Hermione's dangerous predicament.

Hermione, who had just taken out a particularly large and hulking Death Eater, who had been exuberantly picking off muggles from the roof of an old cinder block out building, did not see Bellatrix Lestrange, her mask off, expression malevolent, prowling around behind her like a lioness ruthlessly stalking her prey.

"Mudblood!" Bellatrix shrieked.

Hermione spun around, startled, her eyes darting to those of her Enemy confusedly.

"This is for Lord Voldemort!"

"NO!" Harry screamed, shooting a curse off, as he dove at Bellatrix desperately.

He did not see if his mark had been true, for Ron toppled over him, yelling at the top of his lungs.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Bellatrix's deranged cackle was cut short as her body crumpled to the ground.

"No!" Ron cried, his voice full of anguish, his eyes riveted to Hermione's still form.

Harry pushed Ron off him forcefully, and they both half ran, half stumbled to their fallen friend.

"Oh, gods, Hermione! No!" Harry murmured, as he fell to his knees and hastily turned Hermione over, his eyes searching her face for signs of life.

Ron was beside him, his face twisted with fearful agony, as he reached out to touch her.

"Gods, Harry!" he gasped. "Is she…is she?"

Harry's eyes filled as he shakily felt at Hermione's neck for a pulse.

"Please, Please!" he said with soft despair.

He held very still for a moment.

"No," he said weakly. "No, she's got a pulse."

Ron slumped forward with a sigh of relief.

Harry and Ron suddenly noticed that other "side of right" fighters who had witnessed Bellatrix's attack on Hermione, were now forming a loose circle around them to give them time to take care of her.

"Hurry, Ron!" Harry said, command in his voice again. "Help me drag her to safety!"

Ron wasn't moving, his eyes still staring hard at Hermione.

"Ron!" Harry shouted. "Help me… now!"

Ron startled, as if from a trance, and mechanically grabbed at Hermione's legs, while Harry lifted her under her arms. They carried her carefully to the smoking bin just a few yards away, Harry precariously shooting off curses with one hand, as he tried to keep a hold on the limp Hermione with the other.

Two or three of the recruits kept up with the three, trying to insure their safe passage.

Once behind the bin, Harry and Ron laid Hermione down and Harry ripped off his jacket to cover her, while Ron's jacket was employed as pillow of sorts.

Harry peeked out from behind the bin and immediately surmised that the Battle was coming to an end. It seemed that Hermione's brilliant plan to surround and contain the Enemy had worked beautifully.

Harry could see one or two skirmishes taking place in the offing. But, the remaining Aurors, looking weary but triumphant, had begun to round up what few Death Eaters had survived the onslaught into tight little bands to disarm them and portkey them to the Ministry holding tank.

"It's over," he said joylessly.

Ron did not respond. Harry turned to him slowly.

"Ron…" he said quietly.

Ron was the picture of a broken and grieving man as he gazed at Hermione's frighteningly ashen face…tears streaming down his face, shoulders slumped.

Harry grabbed his shoulders and shook him, forcing him to look at him.

"Ron! Listen to me!" he cried. "I need you to be strong right now…for Hermione!"

Ron gazed at Harry with red rimmed eyes.

"Harry…" he said in a far away voice.

"No! I want you to take the portkey," he said, fumbling in his jeans pocket for the playing card. "Take Hermione back to Hogwarts! Get her to the Hospital Wing. St. Mungos will be crowded by wounded soon. She'll get better care where there is less chaos."

Ron continued to stare at Harry blankly.

"But, how will you…"

There are any number of portkeys floating around the Station. I'll find someone," he said shoving the card into Ron's hand. "Just go!" he pleaded. "Hurry!"

When Ron didn't move, Harry grabbed his shoulder and stared at him almost angrily.

"Do it, Ron!"

Ron nodded slowly, turned to Hermione, gently folded the card into her hand, and looked around at Harry again.

Harry smiled encouragingly and muttered the necessary spell, and his friends instantaneously disappeared.

With a sigh, Harry pulled himself wearily up and headed back to the battlefield to help in any way left to him.

At the Ministry, the smoke was clearing at the scene of the showdown in the conference area in the Department of Mysteries…

And, Severus Snape was the only wizard left standing…

Lucius and his Death Eaters were all dead.

But, what of Draco and Jonathan?

Snape bent over Jonathan's inert form because he was nearest to him.

Dead.

"Draco," Snape gasped a little desperately.

He stepped carefully over two violently twisted bodies to get to Draco and fell to his knees quickly, his black eyes glinting anxiously. He shook him gently.

"Oh…" Draco groaned softly.

"Thank the gods!" Snape whispered.

Then, he noted the blood trickling from the back of Draco's head, seeping into his platinum blond hair, and on to the floor beneath him.

Draco turned his head painfully and regarded Snape blearily. Then, suddenly his eyes widened with the remembrance of where he was and what had just happened. He shot up to a sitting position.

"Jonathan!" he cried. "Professor, he jumped in front of me when Father shot the Killing Curse at me…"

Snape placed his hand gently on Draco's shoulder.

"He's dead, Draco," he said softly. "Jonathan's dead…I'm sorry."

Draco sunk back to the floor, closing his eyes against the pain.

"No."

Snape regarded him quietly for a moment.

"Lucius is dead, too, Draco," he finished carefully.

Draco covered his face with an arm and turned away from his Professor. His body shook with silent sobs.

Snape said nothing more for several minutes, giving Draco the space he needed to pull himself together.

_My father is dead…_Draco thought miserably. _I killed my father._

It didn't seem real. Draco was filled with so many emotions and thoughts, ranging from relief, to anger, to regret, to deep sorrow.

But, it was over. He and Snape and Jonathan had stopped the Death Eaters in whatever evil they had planed to carry out at the Ministry, Jonathan had died in the attempt, Draco was free of Lord Voldemort's and his father's grasp, and…

There would never be a time when he and Lucius would ever make things right between them.

It was, indeed, over in so many ways.

"Draco," Snape said gently, when he perceived that his sobs had die down, "we'd better survey the damage and find and help any survivors."

Draco pulled his arm away from his tearstained face, nodded slightly, and sat up slowly.

He let his gaze fall on Jonathan as he stood up.

"Just a moment," he said without looking at Snape.

He walked over and knelt beside the fallen hero…the man that had saved his life.

"Thank you, Jonathan," he breathed, another tear escaping him.

Then, he stood up and regarded Snape, his face expressionless.

"All right, let's go."

At every level of the building, Draco and Snape found the heedless devastation of the Death Eaters' attack. There were very few survivors and the property damage was extensive. It was as if Lucius and his cohorts had set out to utterly destroy everything and everyone in their path.

When they arrived at the first floor, Draco and Snape found some of the Aurors that had been present at the Battle were wandering around. They were drinking coffee from Styrofoam cups, their faces sooty, robes torn, and looking weary and slightly shell shocked.

Snape left Draco in search of any information on the Battle he could dredge up. Draco had wanted desperately to go with his professor, but he was so weak and dizzy from his head wound that Snape had seated him in a chair and insisted he stay there until his return.

"I'll bring back news," Snape promised as he swept away.

Draco felt really quite ill. He wanted to close his eyes in sleep, but his anxiety was at an all time high. He could think of nothing but Hermione. Where was she? Was she all right?

Soon, Draco heard Snape's hurried foot steps approaching.

"Draco," Snape said sharply.

Despite his pain and disorientation Draco snapped his head up to meet the gaze of the Potion's Master.

"Sir?"

"We've won the Battle!" Snape said, eyes shining unnaturally. "Word has it that Hermione came up with a plan when things looked their bleakest, and it worked. The Aurors are in process of rounding up the remaining Death Eaters as we speak."

"Wonderful," Draco said with a shaky smile.

But, Snape was not smiling. His words were jubilant, but his face did not match them.

"What's the bad news, Sir?" Draco asked sharply.

Snape knelt beside Draco and heaved a sigh.

"Please, Sir," Draco begged.

"Draco, Hermione was injured in the fight."

Draco's face, which had all ready been whiter than usual, paled to his lips.

"How bad is it?" he asked, bracing himself for the worst.

"She was unconscious. Ron Weasley portkeyed her to Hogwarts. Presumably, she is in the Hospital Wing right now."

Snape paused to study Draco, concern etched into every line of his face.

"That's all I know."

Draco stood up unsteadily.

"Let's go," he said shortly, gasping at the pain throbbing in his head.

Meanwhile, Ron had arrived with Hermione's unconscious form in the Room of Requirement. He was sobbing openly now. As he hoisted her up into his arms, he shook the tears from his eyes and looked for someone to help him.

Dumbledore was all ready headed towards him, his blue eyes filled with alarm.

"Let me help you, Mr. Weasley," he said softly. "Levicorpus," he whispered.

Ron felt Hermione lifted from his arms.

"No!" he rasped, not wishing to give her up.

We've got to get her to Madame Pomfrey, Ron," Dumbledore said softly but firmly. "You cannot carry her the whole way."

Ron nodded resignedly and took one of Hermione's limp, pale hands in his own.

Dumbledore, his face grimly set, and his wand up, began moving forward, with Hermione on her cushion of air, and Ron at her side, still possessively holding her hand.

A few minutes later, the three entered the Hospital wing through the heavy double doors.

Madame Pomfrey was hurriedly caring for several other victims of the Battle with help from some sixth and seventh year student volunteers.

It seemed others had had the same thoughts as Harry's about the possible overcrowding at St. Mungos.

"Madame Pomfrey," Dumbledore said, summoning the mediwitch calmly.

"Professor Dumbledore," Madame Pomfrey answered as she straightened up from the bedside of another unconscious patient.

Her eyes fell on Hermione, still floating in mid air.

"Good heavens!" she exclaimed, picking up the skirt of her robes and rushing over.

She peered at her newest patient with practiced eyes.

"Does anyone know what she was hit with?" she asked, her voice low.

Ron shook his head sorrowfully.

Madame Pomfrey laid her hand on Hermione's pale cheek and shook her head, her lips becoming a thin line.

"Over here," she beckoned, pointing to an empty bed.

Dumbledore was on point of lowering Hermione magically to the bed, when the double doors swung open creakily and Snape, who was now supporting a greatly weakened Draco with one arm, stumbled into the room.

Draco lifted his feverish eyes heavily to Professor Dumbledore's face.

"Hermione," he whispered…

…before his eyes rolled back and he promptly passed out.


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter 43

When Draco awoke, it was to the sounds of the inevitable hustle and bustle of the busy Hospital Wing. His head was pounding with terrible pain, which made him wary to open his eyes, lest the light worsen his agonizing plight.

At his soft groan, a cool, gentle hand touched his forehead.

"Glad to see you back with us, Mr. Malfoy," Madame Pomfrey said in softly businesslike tones. "Do you remember why you're here? Can you open your eyes?"

Draco groaned again.

"I hit my head…" he rasped. "Gods, it hurts!"

"I'm afraid you did more than hit your head, Mr. Malfoy," she replied briskly. "I've done the necessary mending spells, but you'll have to drink this potion if you wish to rid yourself of the pain."

Slowly, Draco opened his eyes. His vision was blurred, and he realized his assumption about the light's hurting him had been correct.

"Good gods!" he exclaimed, raising an arm over his sensitive eyes.

"Come now, Mr. Malfoy," Madame Pomfrey pressed. "Take your potion."

Draco felt the cool rim of a goblet at his lips. Slowly, Madame Pomfrey tipped the bitter liquid into his mouth.

"Blechhh!" Draco spluttered, spraying her liberally with the vile fluid.

Madame Pomfrey didn't even flinch.

"You should start feeling better right…about…now!" she said, smiling cheerily.

Instantly, Draco's eyes popped open, and a relieved smile spread across his face.

"Better?" Madame Pomfrey questioned, as she set the goblet down on the bedside table and took up the heavy glass flask containing the miracle potion to cork it securely.

"Yes!" Draco exclaimed joyously. "The pain is gone!"

With a contented half-grin still evident on his face, he let his eyes wander over the room, as Madame Pomfrey bustled busily away.

Suddenly, Draco's eyes fell on the bed next to his.

"Hermione!" he gasped.

Now it was all coming back to him…the Battle! The Ministry! His father! And…

"Hermione!" he cried again, as he clumsily tumbled out of his bed and half crawled, half stumbled over to her unconscious form.

When he reached her bedside, he clasped her hands in his, while his eyes searched her pale, lifeless face.

At the sound of Draco falling out of his bed, Madame Pomfrey came rushing over in a flurry of skirt and apron.

"Mr. Malfoy!" she cried, abject alarm in every feature. She looked every bit like a ruffled hen. "What are you doing out of bed? You'll catch your death! You can't expect…"

"What's wrong with her, Madame Pomfrey?" Draco interrupted without so much as casting a glance at the indignant mediwitch.

Madame Pomfrey regarded the anxiously kneeling young wizard before her and felt weary but compelling compassion well up in her heart. She set her lips in a firm but forgiving line.

"I'm not sure, Mr. Malfoy," she admitted, frowning a little. "She was hit by a spell that I have not been able to identify," she said, her tone quietly frustrated.

Draco watched her face desperately for any sign of hope.

There was none.

"It would be best if she'd awake," the mediwitch continued, as she strode over to straighten Hermione's bed clothes busily.

Draco had the distinct impression that Madame Pomfrey just needed to feel she was doing _something_ for her patient.

"I don't like to see her unconscious for so long," she murmured, more to herself than to Draco.

"Is there nothing further that can be done to bring her out of it?" Draco asked, returning his apprehensive gaze to Hermione, as he gently rubbed the small, cold hand he held within his own.

"No, I'm afraid not," Madame Pomfrey said shortly, her face tight.

Draco's head bowed a little, his eyes closed against the discouraging words that cut through his heart like a knife.

Madame Pomfrey sighed at the sight of Draco's dejection.

"I'm sorry, young man," she said softly apologetic. "I didn't mean to seem short, just then. I think I am feeling overtired."

"Of course," Draco said absently.

"You might be heartened to know that several students are in the library researching obscure curses, as we speak," she said brightly, trying to sound hopeful.

Draco didn't answer, but gently put Hermione's limp hand to his warm lips, tears standing in his eyes.

"Come now, Mr. Malfoy," the mediwitch said gently, comfortingly, "we must believe the answer will be found. It won't do to succumb to despair."

Draco, nodding a little, keeping his eyes on Hermione's still face, as he allowed his tears to overflow and trail down his cheeks.

"Can I be alone with her?" he asked in a broken voice.

"Or course," Madame Pomfrey agreed gently. "But, only for a few minutes, Mr. Malfoy. You have to remember you are still recovering from your own injury."

He nodded again in agreement, but only to get the overly attentive healer to leave him. His head was beginning to pain him again, but he had no intention whatever of leaving Hermione's side.

At that moment, he heard a sort of scraping sound as Madame Pomfrey began to drag a folding partition between Hermione's bed and the rest of the busy open ward. Draco smiled at her gratefully, as he realized that she was trying to give him a sense of privacy as he dealt with his pain.

For all her brusqueness, it seemed Madame Pomfrey had a rather large heart.

When relative quiet surrounded Draco and Hermione, he let his tears come freely, with quiet sobs accompanying. He clutched at his love's hand, kissing it softly over and over.

_You cannot die! _he thought desperately. _I will not allow it!_

"You cannot die!" he whispered.

After he was spent with weeping, he laid his head on the bed beside Hermione's unmoving form. For what seemed like hours, he sat on the cold, hard flagstone, his hands grasping at hers in a tight, possessive grip, as if by holding her so, Death would not be able to claim her.

He listened to her shallow, even breathing, sometimes taking comfort in the fact that she was breathing at all…sometimes wondering if he would ever hear her voice again.

At intervals he slept, his exhaustion and his body's need to heal itself overtaking him. But, he always awoke a few moments later to keep his silent, loving vigil. And, he waited…a part of him believing these to be his last moments with her, but, at the same time, tormented by a hope that would not die.

No, his hope would not die…unless the unthinkable happened.

He shook his head defiantly each time that thought tried to overwhelm him.

_Surely the answer will come… _he thought in calm desperation.

During this time, Madame Pomfrey had been in several times to insist that Draco return to bed, but he would not be moved, much to her dismay.

Professor Snape finally looked in and threatened him with the direst consequences he could bring to bear, but Draco only pressed his lips together, adamantly refusing to speak.

"How you can be so stubborn…" Snape said exasperatedly, pacing before Hermione's bed like an angry panther. "Don't you see you'll do her no good if your own health fails?"

Draco still would not answer. He was determined that Professor Snape would have to bodily pick him up and remove him if he wanted to have him move at all.

Snape sighed finally and moved away from Draco purposefully.

Momentarily, Draco heard the sound of something being dragged heavily across the floor. He didn't turn around to see what it was until he felt Snape's hand on his shoulder.

"Get in it," Snape said, softly insistent, as he jerked his head toward the bed he'd pulled over.

Draco eyed his professor apprehensively. Snape made an impatient gesture with his hands and rolled his eyes.

"You'll be right beside her, Draco!" he shot out disgustedly. "Be sensible!"

Draco said nothing, but got stiffly up, stretching as he did so. He had knelt so long on the floor that his legs felt numb. He felt his knees buckle. Professor Snape quickly clasped Draco under his arms and eased him to the heavy iron hospital bed.

Draco leaned back gratefully, but immediately reached across the short span between him and Hermione to clasp her hand safely in his own once more.

Snape rolled his eyes again, but Draco ignored it.

"Thank you, Sir," he whispered weakly.

Snape only nodded curtly in reply, and left in the now familiar swirl of black robes.

Draco closed his eyes, as his head pounded. After a moment or two, however, the pain began to subside.

_If only I could quell the pain in my heart so easily, _he thought, as he let himself fall into an uneasy sleep at last.

In the Gryffindor common room, Harry and Ron sat, exhausted and anxious, before the crackling fire, feeling as cold as if the grate were cheerlessly empty. The rest of Hogwarts, students and teachers alike, except for the few involved in the continuing drama unfolding in the Hospital Wing and library, was in the Great Hall celebrating the victories at Kings Cross Station and the Ministry of Magic.

Harry and Ron had made their appearances only a couple of hours before. And, the cheers that had greeted them had been deafening. They had waved, and smiled, and greeted those who spoke to them, though their minds were occupied and their hearts were so very heavy.

Then, Dumbledore had stood and addressed the euphoric group to inform them of their Head Girl's precarious hold on her life, after being attacked with a curse of unknown origin. He had asked for the assistance of those willing to research in the library, in the hopes of discovering what curse had been employed against Hermione.

"If we can discover the curse used, we will likely also find the counter curse, as well," he had reasoned as he let his gaze roam over the suddenly sober group before him.

About twenty-five students had stood and begun to make their way to the doors, dogged determination on their faces.

"Thank you," he had said softly. "And, the best of luck to you."

There had been a smattering of encouraging applause as the last of the twenty-five slipped out of the Hall.

Then, the Headmaster had read the list of other wounded students…and, finally of the honorable dead.

Harry had listened, barely able to contain the tears that sprung to his eyes unbidden, as several D.A. members were named—including Ernie Macmillan, Padma Patil, and Neville Longbottom.

Dumbledore's face had been ashen in his sorrow. He had looked as if his burden was almost too much to bear.

"I am sure we all feel a sense of pride, mixed with our profound grief, that these, our friends and class mates were so willing to give their all for the protection of so many other innocent lives."

Without taking his gaze from his aged and wise mentor, Harry had unashamedly let his tears fall, then.

"Let us observe a moment of silence to honor our glorious dead," Dumbledore had finished, bowing his head.

Everyone in the room had silently and of one accord bowed his or her own head, as the Headmaster bid. Harry had heard soft weeping, but absolutely no one spoke.

After that, the assembly had stayed fairly somber, with groups of students milling about, smileless, and whispering amongst themselves seriously.

Harry and Ron had left shortly thereafter, and now found themselves morosely contemplating what might happen to their closest friend, as she lay comatose up in the Hospital Wing.

Harry had not suggested a visit to Hermione, because he knew Draco was there, and he didn't want Ron, who was looking rather volatile, to cause a scene.

Truthfully, Harry was almost as worried about Ron as he was about Hermione. He could sense an almost palpable weight of guilt upon his friend. It was so great that Harry knew Ron could not carry it for long without it breaking him. Thus, for the last several minutes, Harry had been casting about in his mind, searching for the words to say that would ease his friend's burden.

The problem was that he was almost certain Ron would not respond well to any inquiry, so tenuous was his hold on his emotions, at the moment.

Finally, after several more minutes, Harry could stand the silent suffering of his best friend no longer.

"Ron, do you want to talk about it?" he asked very tentatively, almost whispering.

Ron's eyes snapped around to glare at Harry.

"Leave it, Harry!" he growled, his face a mask of mingled anger and agony.

Harry sighed, trying to decide what to do…He decided there was nothing left but to plunge in and take whatever Ron decided to dish out.

"Ron, I know…" he patiently began again.

"What?! What do you know?!" Ron exploded, throwing himself out of his chair suddenly and towering over Harry. "You can't possibly know how horribly guilty I feel about being such an enormous prat to Hermione these last several days!"

Harry stared up at Ron in shocked silence.

"She is up there," he shouted, pointing a shaking finger upward and in the direction of the Hospital Wing, "possibly dying, and I might never have the chance to make it right with her!" he cried, a deep, heavy sob escaping him.

"I know, Ron. I'm sorry," Harry said sincerely.

Ron turned a teary face to Harry, and then fell back into his chair, and cradled his face in his hands despairingly.

"Damn, Malfoy!" he bellowed, his voice only slightly muffled by his hands. "Why the hell couldn't he have left her alone?"

Ron looked up at Harry again, his eyes pleading eloquently. Harry shook his head sadly in response.

"You can't blame Draco for any of this, mate," Harry said softly, trying not to rile his friend any further. "These things sometimes happen…Love happens, Ron."

Ron threw his face into his hands again, answering nothing.

"You may not think Draco is good enough for Hermione, and it may be true…" Harry continued, leaning forward in his chair earnestly. "But, neither you nor I have the right to make a judgment on that. This is their decision. And, we only do our friend a disservice if we abandon her at this important time in her life."

Ron shuddered, trying to contain his rampant emotions, as he lifted his head once again.

"Do _you _think he is good enough for her?" Ron asked in a small, pained voice.

Harry paused as he carefully thought about his answer

"That is more than I know, Ron," he said finally. "I can only say that I trust his heart toward her. I've wrapped my mind around the fact that he loves her, and he certainly means to do her good."

Ron wiped the stray tears from his face with the back of his hand and stared thoughtfully into the fire.

"I think," Harry continued, "I've made my peace with this…And, I think you should, too."

Ron nodded slowly and stood up resolutely.

"Let's go to the Hospital Wing," he whispered.

Harry stood up and laid a comforting hand on Ron's shoulder.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Ron assured, his voice almost breaking again, so that he had to clear his throat. "She needs us now. And, I intend to be there…for her."

Harry smile and put an arm around Ron's shoulder, and the two friends headed for the portrait hole without further delay.

Meanwhile, Draco woke up with a start, and quickly turned in his bed to look at Hermione.

No change.

She was still unconscious, her face pale, her body completely still.

Draco sighed, his face creased with worry.

"Come on, love," he whispered pleadingly. "Come back to me!"

Suddenly, the double doors banged open, almost shaking the walls with the reverberation.

"Madame Pomfrey! Madame Pomfrey!" came the frantically shouting voice of Susan Bones, a seventh year Hufflepuff. "I think I've found it…the spell and its remedy!'

Draco shot up out of bed so quickly that dizziness threatened to overtake him.

A group of several of his fellow students, representing all the houses, scurried past him to Madame Pomfrey, who had been conscientiously tending another patient.

Draco stumbled over to join the group surrounding the mediwitch.

"What have you found?" he asked hopefully, trying to keep his voice even.

Susan turned to Draco, smiling.

"Oh, good, you're here, Draco," she said. "I think we'll be needing you."


	44. Chapter 44

Well, friends, this is the last chapter. It includes a brief epilogue. Thanks for all your kind reviews. I have cherished your words of wisdom and encouragement. And, I have learned a great deal. God bless you all.

Now on to the story…

Chapter 44

"Oh, good, you're here, Draco," Susan said, "I think we'll be needing you."

All around Draco, the heads of Susan's companions bobbed up and down enthusiastically, their faces bright and smiling.

Draco's face reflected puzzlement, but he felt hope inexplicably stirring within him.

"What do you mean?" he asked, addressing Susan warily. "Is there something I can do to help Hermione?"

Susan nodded, still smiling.

"I should think so, Draco!" she confirmed forcefully. "In fact, if what we've found is the actual curse that Hermione is under, you are the only one who can save her!"

Draco felt stunned at Susan's assertion.

"I think you'd better show us what you've found, dear," Madame Pomfrey said crisply, skepticism in her eyes.

"Of course," Susan said, suddenly all business. "Could I have a table to set this on?" she asked, displaying a large, heavy, leather bound book to Madame Pomfrey.

With a nod, Madame Pomfrey led the group over to a big, clunky mahogany desk, not far off. Susan lifted the thick burgundy colored book and let it drop unceremoniously on the desk top with a thud. A great deal of mold tinged dust wafted up from the aged and disintegrating pages of the ancient tome.

A couple of the other researchers, being sensitive to the mold, started sneezing. Madame Pomfrey glared daggers at them, making them apologize profusely, as they wiped at their watery eyes and running noses with their hankies.

Susan, who was only impatient to continue her speech, continued as soon as silence reigned again.

"This book is entitled, 'Obscure Curses and Their Uses'," she began, as if giving a lecture. It was written hundreds of years ago, and is just chock full of the worst, most deadly curses you can imagine!" Susan said, evidently enjoying her listeners' wide eyed expressions of avid interest.

Madame Pomfrey was the only one who looked unimpressed.

"Go on, dear," she said impatiently.

Susan nodded, seemingly oblivious to the mediwitch's hint that she should finish her narrative quickly.

"Anyway, I found this section in the book devoted entirely to spells used to induce coma like symptoms, and I began to compare the notes you gave us, Madame Pomfrey, against the various spells and their effects, and…" she paused for effect, eyeing her audience significantly, "I found this!" she cried dramatically, as she turned a page with great flourish.

All eyes fell to the yellowing page Susan's finger now indicated.

"'Sleeping Beauty Curse'?" Draco read questioningly.

"Yes!" Susan said triumphantly, her face glowing eagerly. "According to this description, this curse is used when the caster wishes to place the target in a deep sleep from which they cannot be awakened by normal means. The book further asserts that in the long past a witch once cast this very curse on the daughter of a king who had fallen into disfavor with her! The writer insists further that the fairy tale that we know as 'Sleeping Beauty' was based on this particular incident…and that the curse used was this very curse!"

She jabbed her finger emphatically at the aged pages, thus sending up another cloud of dust and causing her allergic companions to sneeze once again.

"Let me see that," Madame Pomfrey said officiously, as she perched her reading glasses on the bridge of her nose.

Draco watched her with everything in him, clutching the desktop so hard that his knuckles whitened.

Madame Pomfrey read silently and quickly, her lips moving a little.

"Well?" Draco asked tensely, his voice cracking.

"This could be it…" Madame Pomfrey said cautiously.

Draco brightened.

"In fact, I think it highly likely that it is the curse Ms. Granger suffers under."

Draco released the desk and took a deep breath, a relieved smile growing on his face.

The researchers, too, were smiling in congratulations to one another. A couple of the men clapped Draco on the shoulder encouragingly.

"There is only one problem," Madame Pomfrey said softly, obviously hating to interrupt the mini celebration. "While there is a counter curse to this spell, the book says that if we try it and what we're dealing with is not the 'Sleeping Beauty Curse', Hermione will likely die as a result."

Immediately, the euphoria which had only moments ago filled the group evaporated. Draco looked sharply at Madame Pomfrey, who returned his gaze sadly.

"What?!" he bellowed, his face reddening and fists clenching.

Madame Pomfrey was startled at this display, her eyes wide with alarm.

"I'm sorry, Madame Pomfrey," Draco said shakily, as his hand came to his now perspiring forehead. "I didn't mean to shout at you."

The mediwitch was instantly forgiving.

"No, Mr. Malfoy, it is I who am sorry," she said soothingly, her expression all sympathy. "I wish I could say we've definitely found our answer, but I must be cautious, for Ms. Granger's sake."

"Of course," Draco mumbled, looking down at the smelly, old book that now seemed somehow so menacing on one hand, but still the bringer of all hope on the other.

The researchers looked positively downtrodden…their heads down, faces subdued.

"Thank you," Draco whispered, as he let his gaze rest on each one. "You have done so much."

They nodded dejectedly, some of the girls openly crying.

"Don't give up hope!" Madame Pomfrey said more brightly. "I still believe that this discovery warrants further investigation." She picked up the heavy, unwieldy book with some difficulty.

"I believe it best to take this to Professor Dumbledore. He should be the one to make this decision. I'll return soon."

With that, Madame Pomfrey was off to the Headmaster's office, leaving her exhausted, but nonetheless dedicated group of volunteers in charge of her patients.

After Madame Pomfrey had gone, Draco turned to a much less excited Susan.

"You said something about needing my help in removing the curse, Susan," he began.

"Yes," Susan replied, nodding slowly. "That's right."

"Well, what would I have to do? I mean, assuming Dumbledore decides to try the counter curse."

Susan smiled softly, obviously amused.

"You don't remember the story of 'Sleeping Beauty', do you?"

Draco thought back on any and all stories he had heard as a child, and decided he had almost certainly never heard this one.

"No," he answered truthfully. "I don't think I have ever even heard it."

Susan's smile got a little wider and a lot more mischievous.

"Why, you only have to kiss Hermione, Draco," she said, her eyes laughing. "And, you'd need to utter the counter curse, as well," she said more seriously.

Draco stared at her uncomprehendingly.

She giggled openly at Draco's dismayed expression. Then, she launched into the tale of Sleeping Beauty with relish, as Draco listened avidly. Soon, he found himself drawn in by the simple, romantic story.

"So," Susan said, stars in her dreamy eyes, "the prince finds the princess and, thinking there is no hope of waking her, decides he wishes to place one last kiss on the lips of the lady he loves."

Susan paused here, a sigh escaping her.

"And," Draco said, fully caught up in the story by now.

"And," Susan continued excitedly, "the princess opens her eyes to see her prince bending lovingly over her! True love's kiss had released her from the evil witch's spell!" She sighed again. "Isn't that romantic?"

Draco, in spite of his worry, couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm.

Just then, the double doors opened again, and Draco, hoping it was Madame Pomfrey returned with Dumbledore's answer, whirled around to find himself confronted with the sight of Ron Weasley coming toward him purposefully, with Harry by his side.

Susan and her company of researchers, sensing that the three might want their privacy, melted quietly into the background.

Ron's face was impassive, his features set in an unreadable mask. Draco flicked his eyes to Harry, whose visage was sober, but somewhat relaxed.

_That's a good sign,_ Draco thought. But, he stood tense and ready in case Ron was angry and could not control his temper.

Harry took in Draco's disheveled appearance…his torn and dirty robes, the bandages wrapped around his head, the exhaustion in his eyes…and felt pity rise up in his heart. He strode over, offering his hand. Draco took it warmly.

"Draco," Harry whispered, "how are you? How is Hermione?" he asked, probing Draco's face with his worried green eyes.

Draco felt grateful for Harry's genuine concern, so much so, that he had to fight back tears.

"Thank you, Harry," he answered softly. He cleared his throat, giving himself a moment to contain his too near to the surface emotions. "I am fine, but Hermione is still unconscious." His hand fluttered shakily to his face, so that he didn't see Ron step tenuously up to him.

"Draco," Ron said, pronouncing his name carefully, tentatively.

Draco dropped his hand, carefully masking his surprise at Ron's familiar address.

Ron looked at his enemy of the last seven years as though he were calmly studying him. There was no malice in his gaze, only gentle probing. Draco, for his part, submitted to Ron's appraisal, keeping his expression neutral. He wished to let Ron see he had nothing to hide…and, that he bore him no ill will.

After a few moments, Ron slowly lifted his open hand to Draco. It was a peace offering…a way of building a bridge over the very troubled waters between them.

Draco shifted his gaze to Ron's hand and then quickly back up to Ron's face.

"I'm sorry this happened to you and to Hermione," he said quietly, careful to hold Draco's gaze. "I'll do whatever I can to help."

Draco smiled, openly showing himself pleased with Ron's obvious peace offering, and took his hand in both of his own.

"Thank you, Ron," Draco returned meaningfully, "that means a lot."

Shining tears stood in Ron's eyes as he nodded, wishing Hermione had been able to witness this important exchange. The longstanding feud between two of the most important men in her life was over, and she wasn't even aware of it.

Harry, who had stood off a little ways, had nonetheless watched the scene in awe, his green eyes sparkling with joy.

Now, he approached Draco and Ron and put a hand on each man's shoulder.

"Come," he said, wishing to help his two friends avoid any awkwardness. "Draco can fill us in on any recent developments, while we sit with Hermione."

The three men moved to Hermione's bedside together. Draco positioned himself once again on the floor beside the bed and took her still, limp hand up in his.

Harry and Ron could not hide their shock at the sight of their closest friend…her pale, white face, the very dark circles under her eyes, her colorless lips.

Ron gasped, "Bloody hell!"

Harry let his face fall into his hand, as he gulped back the tears that threatened to come.

"I know," Draco whispered, feeling what little control he had of himself ebbing away. "It is hard to look at her in this awful state."

He meant his words to be somehow comforting, but he knew they were not.

Harry lifted his agonized face to address Draco urgently.

"What is Madame Pomfrey doing for her? What does she say?" His voice was pleading.

Ron could only stare, horrified. At the moment, his terrible guilt was paralyzing him.

"She says that all she can do at this point is to treat Hermione's signs and symptoms," Draco said wearily, as he turned his attention back to her.

"That's all!" Harry whispered harshly, his eyes almost wild.

Draco held up a calming hand.

"There's more," he said firmly. "Pull up a chair, gentlemen, and I'll fill you in."

Draco then proceeded to tell them of Susan Bones' discovery of the 'Sleeping Beauty Curse'. With rapt attention, Harry and Ron hung on every word Draco uttered, feeling somewhat glad for the distraction the story afforded.

As soon as Draco told Harry and Ron the remedy to this deadly curse, Ron jumped up impulsively.

"Well, why haven't they let you do it, then?" he asked, clearly irritated by the delay. "What are they waiting on?"

"There's a catch to all this," Draco continued.

"There usually is," Harry murmured cynically.

"What is it?" Ron asked, a bit of impatience in his tone.

"Well, it's just this," Draco said, measuring his every word carefully. "If I perform the counter curse and Hermione is not under the 'Sleeping Beauty Curse' to begin with," Draco's voice caught, "she will…die."

"Gods!" Harry cried, his face paling.

Ron was shaking his head, eyes wide, as he dropped back into his chair. "No!" he whispered.

"That's why Madame Pomfrey isn't here with us now. She went to consult Dumbledore. She didn't feel she should make this decision on whether or not to do this on her own."

At precisely that moment, Professors Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall entered the Wing, with Madame Pomfrey, still clutching "Obscure Curses and Their Uses", precariously in her hands.

Dumbledore lost not time in sweeping over to the three men keeping watch over the comatose Hermione. He looked determinedly at the patient, his eyes taking in her dire state with quick acuity.

Draco jumped up so that the Headmaster could have as close a look as he wished.

For several minutes, Dumbledore sat in a chair beside Hermione, seemingly lost in thought. Though his eyes remained utterly alive, he looked tired and frail.

Harry knew that his mentor and friend was weighing his decision very carefully.

Finally, he spoke.

"I have just been in communication with the finest healers at St. Mungo's about Hermione's case," he said, his voice stronger than his exhausted appearance belied. "I have told them of our discovery, and suspicion that Hermione is under the 'Sleeping Beauty Curse'. I asked them to send someone to see her, but there are so many casualties from the Battle needing attention that they cannot be spared."

Draco flinched at the Professor's words, but said nothing.

"So, the decision is left essentially to me, and I do not relish it," he said, his eyes resting again on Hermione's still face as he paused. "It seems I cannot take any more time to deliberate, as the healers have further informed me that the 'Sleeping Beauty Curse' will kill its victim within 24 hours of its being cast, unless the remedy is applied before that time."

Everyone standing near the bed reacted in some form to this devastating bit of information, except Professor Snape, whose face never changed. Draco knew him well enough by now, however, to realize that it was unlikely that his professor was completely unmoved.

"Then I don't see that there is a choice to made," Draco said forcefully, his eyes full of angst. "We cannot stand by and do nothing!"

Dumbledore turned to Draco, his eyes sad but resolved.

"I think you are quite right, Draco," he agreed, with a sigh. "Are you ready to perform the counter curse?"

Draco dragged his eyes from the wise old wizard to let them rest on Hermione once more before he firmly set his jaw and turned to Dumbledore to give him his answer.

"I am ready," he said, his voice low and full of conviction.

Dumbledore nodded slowly.

"Hermione's parents have been summoned. A couple of Ministry Aurors should be bringing them to my office at any moment. We will let them see their daughter before you do this," he said firmly. "I will return to my quarters to await their arrival, while you prepare yourself for the task at hand."

He stood and laid a hand on Draco's shoulder, regarding him over his glasses rims.

"May the gods be with you, Draco," he said with quiet affirmation.

Then, he and Snape moved quickly away.

"I'll just go see to the other patients, gentlemen," Madame Pomfrey murmured, as she, too turned to go.

It was clear she wished to give Draco, Harry, and Ron a moment alone with Hermione.

Professor McGonagall strode over to Draco and regarded him, uncharacteristic tears standing in her eyes. She patted his arm stiffly, and then fled the area without a word.

Draco fell to his knees again beside Hermione's bed, never minding the tears that now fell down his face. Harry and Ron each came up behind him and rested a hand on one of his shoulders. Neither spoke, but they fervently wished they could help Draco to carry this crushing load that had been laid upon him.

"So," Draco said, his mind strangely calm. "It all comes down to you and me." He took both her hands in one of his and lovingly brushed her hair back from her pale but still beautiful face. He gazed at her closed eyes, trying to picture them open and alive…her wonderful chocolate brown eyes. How he loved them! How he loved everything about her!

"Hermione," he whispered brokenly, "You have always told me not to fear, but to only believe. You told me before we parted ways this morning that you knew my love would always protect you…shield you from whatever evil is seeking to do to you…" Draco felt a sob wrack his body, and Harry's and Ron's strong hands each squeezed his shoulders supportively.

With a pained voice he continued.

"I believed what you said to me this morning in our rooms, and your words gave me such comfort, such immeasurable peace."

Draco's body felt unbearably tense now, his lips quivered with the effort to keep from a total breakdown of his emotions.

Harry and Ron continued to clutch him in an effort to steady him, and to let him know that they were with him.

With a deep, sharp intake of breath, he spoke again.

"I STILL BELIEVE YOUR WORDS TO ME!" he cried aloud, slowly and deliberately, even angrily. It was as if he was almost shaking his fist at the evil powers that be…as if to defy them.

Suddenly, he felt his very great burden lift from him a little. He felt grief and fear, his mortal enemies, flee from him.

"I am here, Hermione! I love you! I'm doing everything I know how to do to help you…"

Draco's hands continued to clutch at those of the woman he knew he would gladly die for, refusing Death's cold demand to take her away from him.

"And, I am believing that this counter curse will work, and you will be free to come back to me!"

He laid his head on top of their tangled hands gently.

"You will not die," he whispered, "but live...You _will_ live, my love."

Suddenly, he felt that morning's glorious peace flood through him again. His eyes closed, his stomach unclenched, his breathing eased, as he succumbed to the soft, undeniable comfort of relief from the terrible fear and trepidation that had tried to hold him since he'd awakened to find Hermione unconscious in the bed beside him.

When Draco rose up from Hermione's bedside a few moments later, he was strangely calm and focused. He felt strong and ready to meet the life and death challenge before him.

A short time later, the Grangers arrived to see Hermione. Harry, Ron, and Draco stepped away from the bed side to give Mr. and Mrs. Granger a moment alone with their daughter.

Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall, who had come down with the Grangers, stepped over to the three for a final word with Draco.

"Are you ready, Draco?" Professor Dumbledore asked soberly.

"Yes, Sir," Draco said, quiet confidence in his voice.

Snape's glittering onyx eyes regarded Draco without any discernable emotion.

"Good luck, Draco," he murmured.

"Thank you, Sir," Draco answered, with a small smile.

Snape was really quite all right.

McGonagall reached out to Draco and gave him a small hug.

"You'll do fine," she said in tight, but sympathetic tones.

"Thank you, Professor," Draco returned gently.

A few minutes later, Harry and Ron stood quietly beside Draco while the Grangers came out from behind the partition. Poor Mrs. Granger was crying uncontrollably, as Mr. Granger, his face terribly pained, walked with her, his arms encircling her protectively.

Draco's heart went out to them, but he didn't speak. He couldn't. He felt he needed to stay focused.

Harry turned to Draco, his jaw set, eyes hard.

"It's time," he said firmly.

Ron nodded encouragingly at his new found friend.

Draco regarded his two friends, his eyes full of fire.

"I'm ready," he said, his voice steady.

The three walked behind the partition, followed by their professors and Madame Pomfrey, and the Grangers.

Draco looked at no one now, save his Hermione as she lay in the bed. He walked to her and knelt beside her still form, for what he believed would be the last time.

"Well, love," he whispered, leaning close to her and touching her cold, white cheek. "It's time you opened those beautiful brown eyes again."

For a split second, Fear tried to envelope him again, but he only flatly refused it access to his mind and heart.

"No," he growled.

His peace did not leave him, as he gently placed his wand tip on Hermione's gently rising and falling chest, just above her heart.

"I love you," he whispered, his heart in every word.

The room was absolutely silent, as if everyone in it was waiting with bated breath.

"Pulchritudo quietus vita!" he cried in a firmly commanding, almost frightening voice.

Draco's visage was terrible to behold.

As the onlookers watched, wide eyed, a white stream of light shot powerfully out of his wand tip, lighting up the whole area, and wound itself slowly around Hermione's body from head to toe. Hermione's form trembled slightly, as the sinuous white cord lifted her about a foot from the bed and held her there. Draco fought to keep a firm hold on his wand, his face a picture of determined concentration.

Everyone in the room felt what seemed to be a gentle electrical current flow through their bodies, energizing them powerfully.

For several moments, the cord of light held Hermione in position over her bed. Then, as Draco watched, awestruck, her body began to gently and slowly lower to the mattress beneath her.

Draco waited a moment more, to be sure the counter curse had had ample time to do all its vital work.

Then, he leaned in to place a gentle, but fervent kiss upon Hermione's cold lips.

Anxiously, expectantly, Draco fastened his eyes on her face, while everyone else watching hung back to give them plenty of room.

Then, Draco thought he saw what looked to be a little color infusing Hermione's wan cheeks. His breath quickened excitedly, but he did not alert the others. He felt compelled to wait just a little longer.

He was rewarded for this small display of patience when he distinctly saw Hermione's lips begin to regain their rosy pink hue. He waited no longer to speak.

"Look!" he cried.

The group crowded around the bed, all eyes searching desperately for signs of life in Hermione's face.

Draco bent forward and kissed Hermione again.

"Come on, love," he whispered urgently. "I'm waiting…I'm waiting for you!"

At that moment, Hermione's eyes fluttered.

Mrs. Granger gasped, her hands covering her mouth.

"Yes," Draco said loudly enough for the others to hear. "That's it! That's it! Come back to me, love!"

Slowly, the fluttering turned to blinking. Then, with a deep, cleansing breath, Hermione opened her eyes completely.

"Draco?" she said in a hoarse whisper.

"Yes, darling," he said, as he lovingly stroked her hair. "I'm here! I'm here! It's all right."

She looked at him, her large eyes clear, and bright with tears.

"You saved me!" she cried. "I knew you would!"

Draco fell upon her, openly crying, hugging her to him, and letting his tears wet her shoulder.

She had heard him! Through it all, she had heard him and known he was there all the while. He felt as though he could never let her go.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger had rushed to the other side of the bed and now knelt beside her, both of them crying unashamedly.

Draco reluctantly let Hermione go.

"Mum…Dad?" she whispered, turning to them.

"Baby!" Mrs. Granger cried, clutching her daughter's frail hand.

Then, Hermione's eyes fell on Harry and Ron, who were standing at the foot of the bed, smiling broadly through their own tears.

"You're here, too," she said, smiling weakly.

"Of course," Harry gasped, playfully squeezing her toe.

Ron weakly raised his hand to her in greeting. It was all he could manage.

She smiled at him, all her love for him in her eyes.

Madame Pomfrey, unable to control her joy ran from the area, dabbing her eyes with her apron and crying loudly.

Snape rolled his eyes disgustedly at such a display, but he still looked extremely pleased.

Dumbledore, with a smiling Professor McGonagall accompanying, stood behind the Grangers, smiling beatifically at Hermione.

"Welcome back," he said, his eyes twinkling with quiet joy.

"Thank you, Sir," she replied appreciatively.

Then, she turned to Draco again, the man who had saved her by the strong and abiding love he bore her. She clutched his hand, and he kissed her, letting his tears mingle with hers.

It had been a long, hard fight, but, in the end, their love had found the way, and Death had been soundly defeated.

EPILOGUE

The next few days were the most peaceful that Draco and Hermione had ever experienced in their short, but intense relationship.

Madame Pomfrey insisted that the two remain in the Hospital Wing until she was satisfied that their recovery was well in hand. So, with nothing but time on their hands, they talked a great deal, cried together, and held each other, thus facilitating the healing of, not only their bodies, but their minds and spirits, as well.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger stayed at the castle, with Dumbledore's kind permission, for the next three days, so that they could visit their daughter any time they wished. Both Hermione's parents came to love Draco, but Mrs. Granger had a particular affection for him and could not be in the same room with him without hugging him.

Harry and Ron were daily visitors, and the four now fast friends swapped war stories for hours at a time…at least until Madame Pomfrey shooed the visitors unceremoniously away.

One afternoon, Ron came by alone to speak with Hermione. Draco, knowing what his friend's errand was, made himself scarce by taking a walk around the Hospital Wing in order to afford them some privacy. When he returned half an hour later, he did not have to ask if all was well. For, Hermione and Ron were caught up in a squabble of some sort or another, as had always been their habit before the big falling out.

Dumbledore, too, visited at least twice, bringing the well-wishes of all the staff, who felt it best not to visit the invalids lest they feel overwhelmed.

Snape even paid a short, uneasy call. But, he was ready to leave as soon as he saw his students were truly all right. With a curt, "You'll have a lot of catching up to do on your lessons", he slipped away and was gone as quickly as he had come.

Draco and Hermione had only smiled knowingly at each other, as their Potions Master disappeared behind the partition.

"That was 'Snape' for, 'I'm really glad you are feeling better. I'll see you in class soon'," Draco smirked.

Hermione laughed until she cried.

The day after Hermione awoke; Narcissa Malfoy came to visit her son. She seemed delighted to meet Hermione and was greatly relieved at seeing Draco in good health.

She spoke frankly about Lucius' death, making it clear she did not in any way hold it against Draco for killing his father.

"You did what you had to do, I know," she said, as silent tears coursed from her ice blue eyes and down her cheeks.

Then, she offered Draco one hand and Hermione they other.

The two took her hands and she squeezed affectionately.

"Hermione, I hope you'll spend part of the Christmas holidays with us at the Manor. I would be most pleased to have you."

Hermione nodded her assent smilingly.

"I would love to come, Mrs. Malfoy."

"Please call me, Narcissa," she said earnestly. "I know that you are most important to my son." She looked at Draco lovingly. "So, I wish us to be as close as we can be."

Narcissa squeezed Hermione's hand again. And, Draco felt he couldn't possibly be any happier at the sight of his mother and the woman he loved getting on so well.

For Draco and Hermione, life was good. Yes, the war was still on, and Lord Voldemort was still lurking around…But, they had wonderful friends and family, their health, and, most importantly their love.

Their love had been tested and tried in the refining fire of adversity…and it had come out as pure gold.

They had learned that the love they shared was powerful and strong as death itself.

And, they were confident that whatever the future held for them, either for good or ill, their deep and abiding love would see them through.

O Death, where is thy sting?

O Grave, where is thy victory?

1 Corinthians 15:55

And now abideth faith, hope, and Love, these three: but the greatest of these is Love.

1 Corinthians 13:13


End file.
